Slave to Fate
by NicoPony
Summary: What lengths will former X Man turned Horseman go to settle the score? Can anything or anyone be redeemed from this Sinister plot?
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This story begins about a month after X-Men #196, where Rogue is infected with Strain 88. Unlike in the books, Cable didn't take the ailing Rogue to Providence, but instead to the Institute. If there's any ambiguity with the actual X-storyline, it's because I haven't read an X-book in about five years. I tried to stay true to continuity as best I could.

After going back and re-reading several of the story arcs involving Gambit, I felt like I had to try and 'fix' the horrible things the X-writers had done to my favorite character. They had a great character with awesome potential, and they totally blew it big time. So this is my effort to bring Gambit somewhat back to normal and give him the kudos he deserves!

HOLY SONNETS.

X.

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;

For those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,

Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,

Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow,

And soonest our best men with thee do go,

Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.

Thou'rt slave to Fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,

And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,

And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,

And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?

One short sleep past, we wake eternally,

And Death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

John Donne.

Chapter 1

The dark figure walked along the service corridor, his thick leather-soled shoes silent on the damp concrete, his long cowl sweeping the ground. His steps were quick and purposeful. Acid yellow bulbs placed intermittently along the tiled half-pipe tunnel cast eerie shadows as he passed. Either side of the corridor was lined with concrete walkways. The recess running along the center of the corridor below contained several large siphons that carried away the filth of the over eight million citizens of New York City. The sewers beneath the city contained much more than the city-dwellers' refuse, but other things that the rest of humanity preferred not to think about. Other people.

Mutants.

He could hear the sound of harsh breathing echoing through the ear-piece which looped around his right ear. The regular breathing suddenly stopped with a sudden exhalation, followed by a smattering of gunfire and wordless cry of success. Several terrified screams echoed down the corridor. The man touched his ear-piece with a slight smile.

"Is it done?" he asked softly, his voice the barest rasp of a whisper.

"One down," came the voice in his ear, "two to go. Send Yoshida to do cleanup."

"Shiro...?" the dark man rasped.

A second voice answered, his words partially obscured by the hiss and crackle of hungry flames: "I'm on my way."

Up ahead, the corridor ended at a t-section, and split off to the right and left. The man paused as the sound of running footsteps grew nearer in the left tunnel. He noted the that footsteps were moving toward the sounds of gunfire and screaming, rather than away. Fleeing was the Morlocks' usual method of defense; it was atypical that one of their lot should be running toward danger.

Assured that this was the quarry he sought, the man darted to the mouth of the corridor, careful to stop just before his shadow would give him away. He hoped his quarry would continue past at the same frantic pace, but as she neared his position, her footsteps slowed.

"She's wary, this one. As she should be," the man noted silently with growing satisfaction. "Sarah would know better than to run past a blind spot."

The man's suspicions of the runner's identity were confirmed when the young, pink-haired woman darted out into the tunnel in which he stood. Yellow light from the overhead lights caught on the steel blades she held before her. For an instant the two crouched in fighting stance, getting the measure of each other. The man rose slowly from a crouch to his full height. With an unearthly scream, Sarah flung one of her blades at the cloaked form before her. The man acted quickly, swinging his staff and sending the blade flying in the opposite direction with the ringing clash of metal-on-metal. Sarah leaped at the dark figure, her second blade flashing down. The man darted aside, and the sharp knife drew through the fabric of his cloak, rather than slicing through his abdomen. He swung his staff after the girl, striking her in the back with the heavy blunt end. She struck the concrete head on and skidded a few feet. She was liquid motion, and though her face had just been scraped across the rough floor, a twist of her hips turned her over in time to block the second staff blow aimed at her head. She cried out when the staff struck her forearm; Sarah heard the familiar snap of bone breaking. Sarah lurched forward and swung her remaining knife, aiming for the tendons at the back of her attackers leg. The knife swung and missed as the intended target jumped back. The man's leg struck out at her and connected with her skull, sending her tumbling onto the siphons below.

Sarah struggled to remain conscious as the man hopped down from the walkway and onto the pipe. His footsteps rang hollow on the tube. He walked slowly now, his balance perfect on the round siphon.

Fury bubbled up Sarah's throat. "You!" she spat. "How could you!?"

The man spun his staff lazily; one end, the end he had used to break Sarah's arm, was blunt and club-like. The other, however, ended in a scimitar-curved blade. The lights shone along its silvery length and caught on the strange markings, like hieroglyphics etched into the metal. Sarah watched it, hypnotized by its cruel beauty.

"Do you like it?" the dark man asked idly. "A gift...from my former employer."

Sarah lay her head down on the siphon. The corridor around her was spinning, spinning counter to the twirling staff.

"Are you tired, _mignonne_?" said the harsh, raspy voice. "You should get some rest...sleep."

Sarah's eyes fluttered shut but then reopened. There was something...bad...in the air. More than the smell of weather runoff and human waste. Something acrid that was seeping into her lungs. Making her weak.

The man crouched over her, and in the dim light, she could just make out a dark face and eyes. Red eyes...the color of fresh blood.

The color of Death.

(_mignonne_: (French.) cute, darling.)


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Storm stared into the impassive face of her once enemy, turned begrudging ally, Callisto. The other woman's eyes were hidden beneath large sunglasses despite the dim light of the surrounding chamber. Candlelight winked on the shards of crystal which were placed here and there, beautiful despite the grim surroundings. Storm eventually looked away from Callisto's battle-hardened face to gaze at the three disfigured forms at her feet. They were in a graveyard of sorts, within the abandoned New York tunnels that the Morlocks had once called home. Simple white stones marked the resting places of the dead. All but three of the stones bore the names of the fallen. All the dead could be identified save for the three slain bodies before them, which were burned beyond recognition.

"Where are the other Morlocks?" Storm asked, her voice the barest whisper. She dared not speak any louder, for fear of hurting the sensitive mutant beside her.

"Safe...for now," Callisto replied, her voice equally quiet, though laced with harsh bitterness.

"And your attackers? Did no one see them? Where did they go?"

"They came and went," Callisto said. "Like thieves in the night."

"Do you suspect..." Storm began, but her throat closed up before she could utter the name.

"The Marauders?" The corner of Callisto's mouth rose in a hateful sneer. "It wasn't like before. You saw what happened last time. It was a blood-bath. No, this was something else," she waved her hand to indicate the three charred corpses. "These three were singled out. No one else was harmed, though one was taken."

Storm blinked, looking away from the bodies and back into the mirrored lenses of Callisto's sunglasses. "Taken? Who?" Storm asked a little too loudly, and Callisto flinched and put a hand to her ear. "I am sorry," Storm whispered and extended her hand to touch the other woman's arm.

Callisto side-stepped Storm's affectionate touch. She shook her head slightly, to indicate there was no harm done, though she kept her hand pressed to her ringing ear. "Marrow," Callisto eventually replied. "She's gone. We found one of her knives along the access tunnel," Callisto reached behind her and drew a metal blade from her belt. She offered it to Storm. "Signs of a fight. Some blood. Whose, we don't know."

Storm turned the steel blade over in her hands. There was no trace of blood on the blade. The significance of the knife was not lost on her. "But this is not Sarah's," Storm whispered. "Sarah would not have need for a blade like this. Unless..."

"Sarah retains the physical attributes of her mutation, but her powers have been taken from her. For better or worse, she is human now."

"It seems very much for the worse, my friend," Storm replied.

Callisto took the blade from Storm's hands and exchanged it for the handle of a spade. "Shall we get started?" she asked.

Storm nodded, her long white hair falling into her tear-streaked face. "Yes, let us begin."

For the next few hours, the chamber echoed with the sharp sounds of the spades in the dirt. To the hyper-sensitive mutant Callisto, these echoes were perhaps the most painful sounds of all.

(Post House of M: Callisto's original form and powers were restored temporarily by the Terrigen Mists.)


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Hank McCoy removed his bifocals and rubbed his eyes with the pads of his forefinger and thumb. The numbers on the readout before him scrolled past, a display of invariably descending numbers that eventually petered out into a long line of zeros.

Somewhat, Hank thought with a chill, resembling the flat line on a heart monitor of someone who has just died on the operating table.

When Hank McCoy first joined the X-Men, he held firmly to the belief that mutants were the next step in human evolution: _Homo sapiens superior._ Given the current state of events, Hank would be hard pressed to find evidence to prove that hypothesis. The numbers on the screen didn't lie. There was little hope for the success, let alone survival, for the mutant race. Perhaps mutants were the next step in human evolution, but instead of progressing as the natural order of things, had instead been undone by their own hands.

Hank was interrupted from his reverie when the pneumatic hiss behind him indicated the lab door had opened. As he replaced his eye-glasses, he turned in his office chair to see Bobby Drake standing in the doorway. The younger man was holding his cell phone and looking at it as if it he'd never seen it before.

"Greetings, Robert," Hank said. "You know, you're not going to get very good reception down here."

"No," Bobby said somewhat distractedly before snapping his cell closed and looking up at Hank. "No, I just received a call from Mr. Gibson, Dallas Gibson's grandfather. Do you remember him? He was one of our former students."

"Hm, the blond, stood about yea high..." Hank raised his hand about a foot over his head. "Wasn't he one of Emma's?"

"Yeah, that's him."

"What did Mr. Gibson want?" Hank asked.

"Well," Bobby began. "He told me Dallas has disappeared."

"He has?" Hank straightened hopefully. "Does that mean his powers have returned?"

"No. What I mean to say is that Dallas went to a friend's house three days ago and never made it home. His grandfather was wondering if Dallas might have come here. I told him I haven't seen the kid, but we'd keep an eye out."

"Does Mr. Gibson suspect Dallas ran away?"

"Well, that's what the police suspect when he filed the missing persons report."

"I take it Mr. Gibson thinks differently?"

"He doesn't think Dallas had any reason to run away. But they've questioned the neighbors, and no one has seen anything unusual. No strange people or cars."

"Hm, well. I'm sure this is not to be taken lightly, after many of the de-powered students found themselves targets of that serial murderer."

"You suggest we call the other former students, then?" Bobby asked. "We don't want to panic anyone if it turns out this kid is just a runaway."

"Hm...perhaps if we had an ulterior motive for calling?" Hank paused for a moment, his hand on his chin. He eyed the readout screen again.

"Hank...hellooo..."

Hank glanced up at Bobby. "You know, my friend, I just had a sudden brain storm. It never occurred to me until now, but I may be able to make some derivations from studying the de-powered mutants post-M-Day, and compare the changes made to their genetic structure. Now that I think on it, Annie would've kept their DNA samples in the infirmary. I could use those for comparison. Is the x-factor gene sequence simply gone, or has it been nullified...?"

"Before you go off on a tangent, Hank, you wouldn't happen to have the class roster on hand?"

Hank spun his chair and trundled over to his desk. He then jiggled open a clutter-filled drawer. "I believe I saw it in here not that long ago..." he said as he rummaged. Eventually, he pulled out a large, spiral bound book. "Here we go." He flipped it open to the center and with a jerk of his hairy blue arms, tore the book in two along the spine. He wheeled himself over to where Robert stood and proffered one half of the book.

"Here you are, Robert. Would you like to start with the 'M's'?"

(See: The Ghoul. That's Generation M.)


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Rogue was kicking her legs to free herself from the tangled sheets when her adoptive mother, Raven, entered the MedBay.

"Did'ja bring my socks like I asked you?" Rogue asked without preamble.

"I always hated it when you were sick," Raven said, and threw the pair of balled socks at her daughter. "You're so crabby when you're sick."

"And I hate it when you ball up my socks like this," Rogue snapped. "It stretches 'em out." She un-rolled the socks, which were bright pink with little green dancing frogs. Rogue aimed a glare at Mystique, but yanked on the socks without comment.

"You're welcome," Raven said snidely. "And once you're done adjusting your attitude, you can welcome your visitor."

"I don't want any---" Rogue began, but the door to the MedBay reopened to reveal the man known as Pulse. He was holding a vase full of flowers. This was his second visit in so many weeks. She'd thought he had learned his lesson after the first visit, but apparently not. At his first visit, he'd patted her head like she was a sick child, and then she'd bent his pinkie finger backwards until he said 'uncle.'

"Hello, Rogue," he said as he approached her bedside table.

"Pulse," Rogue didn't bother to disguise the flat disappointment in her tone.

If Pulse noticed her tone, he gave no indication. He placed the vase on the side table. "I brought you some get-well flowers," he said, gesturing to the vase, as if Rogue wouldn't have recognized them as flowers. For good measure, there was a card reading 'Get Well Soon' tucked amongst the blossoms.

"Isn't that nice?" Raven prompted.

"Looks like they're workin', I feel better all ready," Rogue said as she threw her legs over the side of the bed and stood.

"Rogue, you shouldn't be out of bed," Raven chided.

Rogue clutched the back of her hospital gown together and faced her mother. "I said I'm better, Mystique. Don't treat me like I'm an invalid."

"You are an invalid, Rogue, which is significantly better than what you very nearly were...a dead body on a slab! Don't you think it would be wise to wait until we can fully understand the nature of the virus you've been inflicted with?"

Rogue sighed and rolled her eyes before marching over to the cabinets, which contained extra linens and her clothes. "Hank says the Strain 88 virus was created for me, and reacts to my physiology. It's not transferable through the air or body fluids or anything. Y'all wouldn't even be in here if Hank didn't think it was safe."

"I wasn't worried about me, I was worried for you," Mystique said.

Rogue ignored her. "D'ya mind?" She asked Pulse, trying not to show him her exposed back. "I'd like some privacy."

Pulse had been staring at her, and it took a moment before realization dawned in his eyes. "Oh, right, sorry," he said, and to Rogue's annoyance, only turned around instead of leaving.

Rogue struggled to smother her exasperation. Maybe Mystique was right, and she was being crabby. She yanked open the cabinet and removed the sweatpants from the shelf. She was just pulling a tee shirt over her head when the door swished open again.

"What is this, a convenience store, or the MedBay?" Rogue snarled as her head emerged from the neck of her shirt.

Sam Guthrie at least had the courtesy to look embarrassed. "Sorry, Miss Rogue," he said as he peeked through the open door. "I was only lookin' for Mystique."

"What?" Mystique asked. "What for?"

"Val Cooper just hailed the Conquistador, there's been an incident," Sam replied. "Cable wants you on board."

"I suppose that all depends on the type of incident involved," Mystique said.

"Val didn't give all the details," Sam said, "but from what I gather, two mutants have been murdered."

"Did she say who the victims are?" Rogue asked, as she tugged down one of the legs of her sweatpants.

"Val said she didn't know for sure, but they think it may be the Shaws."

"The Shaws?" Pulse asked with surprise.

Mystique shot him an unfathomable look, and Pulse did his best to hide his surprise.

"D'ya know them?" Rogue asked dryly.

Pulse opened his mouth to reply, but he withered under Mystique's gaze. Finally he stammered: "Oh, uhm, no. Not personally. By reputation only."

"You said, 'Shaws', plural," Mystique said. "Do you mean Sebastian and Shinobi? I thought those two didn't get along."

"Maybe they killed each other," Rogue muttered as she searched out her sneakers from under the bed. "Good riddance."

"I don't think so, Miss Rogue," Sam said. "Val says Homeland Security is crawling all over this case. We've gotta go, Cable's waiting."

"All right," Rogue said as she straightened from tying her shoes. "Let's go."

"You're not going anywhere," Mystique said. "Get back in bed."

"I think Miss Raven's right," Sam said to Rogue. "You look a little green around the gills."

"Thanks for the advice, Sam," Rogue drawled as she pushed past Pulse and Mystique and through the door. "I've had quite enough _motherin'_ for today."

(See X-Men #196)


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Sarah woke to find herself strapped to a stiff bed in a steel cell. Her head felt as if it were stuffed with cotton, and her mouth tasted foul. She blearily stared up at the harsh white ceiling lights, trying to get her bearings. She found she could turn her head, albeit painfully, to take in the rest of the room. There was an IV stand and monitor beside her bed. A steady drip ran from the IV bag down a tube to the needle in her arm. She tried to jerk away, but found her biceps and wrists firmly strapped to the bed. The abrupt action only caused her arm to ache and her head to spin. She closed her eyes against the white glare of lights. At first, she heard nothing but the dull droning throb of machinery in the walls around her. It was several moments before she could pick out the thin wail of a wounded animal somewhere beyond the sealed doorway to her left.

No, she decided. It wasn't an animal. It was a baby.

Somewhere nearby an infant was wailing. Eventually, she heard a dull clank, perhaps of a door opening, and the sound of wailing increased for a moment. Sarah's heart was pounding in her chest. She looked toward the door of her cell, where a small square window gave her a view of the same white lights in the hall beyond. Slowly, the infant's sobs fell quiet, and she heard the sound of a deep voice speaking. Though the words were unintelligible, the voice sounded as if it were comforting the infant. It rose and fell, as if in song.

Sarah felt her eyes drift close. She had no concept of how long she slept, but she was reawakened when she heard the same dull clank as before and the door to her cell was pulled open. Her eyes snapped open, and her heart nearly leaped from her chest. The same dark man that had attacked her in the access corridor stood in the threshold.

His hair was a nearly translucent white, and it seemed to float in weightless strands, like spiderwebs in a breeze. The pale hair framed a black, scarred face and those eerie blood-red eyes that shone with an inner fire. An acrid odor came from him, like the stink of electric wires on fire, which she could smell though he stood several feet away. She prayed he'd stay away, but her hopes were dashed as he approached her in three long strides.

"Do you remember me?" he asked, his voice was soft and torn, as if he had spent hours screaming at the top of his lungs.

Sarah didn't want to look at his face, but her fear coalesced into fury as the feelings of hopelessness overwhelmed her. "You're a murderer," she spat.

The corner of his mouth lifted as he smiled slowly, revealing one long incisor. "You're only half-right. Partial credit," he rasped and leaned toward her. "Look closer."

She had no idea what this man wanted, but her eyes unwillingly searched his face for the answer. Sarah jerked back in her bed with a sudden gasp. Her stomach heaved and she struggled to swallow.

"So you do remember me," he said as he searched her eyes. "Though you may not know me."

"No," she whispered, though she recognized him now. Her heart refused to believe what her gut was telling her. "But...but why?" Sarah whispered.

"No, you do not know me," he continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Let us get to know each other a little better, shall we?"

"Gambit...please..." A tear spilled over one of her cheeks and down the side of her neck.

The dark man put his hand out to touch the tear, and lay his palm over her throat. She tried to swallow past the pressure on her Adam's apple.

"It was me," the man began. The eyes that bore into her face began to grow distant. "I was the one who brought them together. Those killers, the dregs of humanity. The ones that killed your family and destroyed your home."

With sickening dread filling her, Sarah watched the man's pinprick pupils flick back and forth, as if they were searching through memories. The words came slowly, as if coming from a great distance. "And then, when I'd brought them together, I took them to where your people were hidden. And I watched as they were slaughtered."

Sarah tried to shake her head, the tears coming hot and fast now. She felt his long fingers tighten slightly around her neck. "No," she said again. "You didn't."

"Didn't I?" he asked, and his face clouded, as if he weren't entirely sure of his own recollections. "I heard their screams, I saw them die."

"Not all. Not me," Sarah's voice weakened to a squeak, and she raged against the sound of her own frailty.

The man who was not Gambit cocked his head, like a dog who's caught wind of something distant. "No..." he said slowly. His pale brows drew together in confusion. "Not you. You didn't die...I wonder why?" The hand on her throat tightened again.

"You saved me," Sarah whispered. Her heart pounded as the realization dawned on her. She'd never connected Gambit to the man, wounded and bloodied, who had yanked her from the grasp of that sociopath Sabretooth. She finally had a face and a name for the man who'd rescued her from the horror of that night. The man who'd taken her from the tunnels and brought her into the light. That light that warmed her face and arms, at least, for those few brief weeks before she was whisked away again...back into the darkness. Pieces of memory quickly snapped into place, though the memories brought her no understanding and further confusion.

"Why---why are you telling me this?"

The man seemed to be struggling with his own confusion. His eyes finally focused and met her gaze. "Because, _chere_, I wanted you to know who I really was. And that there'd be no rescue this time."

He pushed himself away from her and left the room, his long cloak swinging behind him. The cell door slammed with a resounding finality.

Sarah was left with nothing but the feeling of his fingers around her throat, choking on her own tears.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The dimly lit room with its large circular table was hushed in companionable silence as the three women waited for their last two teammates, Beast and Iceman, to arrive.

"Is Logan coming as well?" Storm asked at length.

"No," replied Karima, also known as the Omega Sentinel. "He's babysitting Sabretooth."

Storm's eyebrows rose. "Is that wise?" she asked.

Karima's head tilted, and one of her armored shoulders rose in an approximation of a shrug. "Probably not, but Creed is currently being held in a stasis chamber. I doubt Wolverine would kill a helpless opponent, even if it is Sabretooth."

"Why has Wolverine taken it upon himself to sit watch over Creed, then?" asked Emma.

"We've had some...technical glitches lately," Karima said. Though her face was impassive, her tapping finger betrayed her concern.

"Oh," Emma said idly examining her pristine fingernails. "And why haven't I heard anything about these glitches?" Emma hated not being in complete control of even the most minute functionings of the Institute.

"I'm downloading the information now," Karima said, as she unplugged a port from her left shoulder and hooked herself into a nearby computer.

Emma looked over the information Karima produced on the monitor. "Wait, Creed _escaped_!?"

"He made a brief venture out," Karima replied coolly. "He didn't get far."

"This is unacceptable," Emma said, crossing her arms.

"I can handle a dead-beat like Creed," Karima replied, imitating Emma by crossing her arms as well. The Omega Sentinel also had issues with maintaining order and control.

Heads turned as the last two arriving X-Men entered the room Cyclops had once dubbed: The War Room. Consequentially, Robert Drake had not once passed up the opportunity to exclaim: "You can't _fight_ in here, this is the _War Room_!," much to everyone's disgust. The joke stopped being funny after the first seventeen times they'd heard it. As the aforementioned jokester entered, Emma Frost graced him with a quelling glare before Robert was even able to open his mouth.

"I wasn't going to say it!" Bobby declared.

"Just sit down so we can begin this meeting," Emma said, gesturing to the empty seats. "Storm asked that I call this meeting on her behalf---."

"No, _I _called this meeting," Iceman interrupted. "Hank and I have important information---."

Emma had completely switched into her Control Freak mode by now. She was about to commandeer Iceman's body and force him into a chair when the large monitor behind her flared to life.

"Emma!"

Emma Frost nearly jumped out of her skin, and she spun to look at the screen behind her. Rogue's sallow face filled the screen. She looked more than a little crabby. She was also wearing what appeared to be a HazMat suit with the hood pushed back.

"There's no need to shout at me, Rogue," Emma snapped.

"Well, y'weren't answering my pages in your office," Rogue snarled. "I need t'call a meeting!"

Iceman let out an exasperated cry and sent the papers he was holding fluttering into the air.

"Rogue," Hank said with concern, "I'd hoped you would spend at least another week recuperating from your illness."

"If I spent another day in that MedBay, I'd like to go insane," Rogue replied. "Are y'gonna listen to what I have to say, or not?"

"Fine," Emma said, "get on with it!"

Rogue took a steadying breath, clearly trying to come to grips with her irritation. "Val Cooper hailed Cable's ship, the Conquistador, with news about a double homicide. Two mutants are dead."

"Who are the victims?" asked Storm.

"We won't know until the dental records are checked. The bodies are too badly burned t'tell for sure. But the house they were found in belongs to Shinobi Shaw."

"Burned...?" Storm asked quietly.

"Yep, they're a coupla crispy critters."

"The bodies in the Morlock Tunnels were also incinerated beyond recognition," Storm said and all eyes turned to her.

Karima's expression sharpened on Storm, the Sentinel was being particularly emotive today.

Emma lips were pursed in consideration. "What on earth were those two doing together in the same house? They despise each other."

"Dunno," Rogue answered. "But Val said there was a report of robbery not two days ago. A family heirloom or some such. A signet ring Shinobi wore worth about a quarter mil."

"Is there any connection between the murders and the theft?" Emma asked.

"None we can see so far," Rogue answered. "Whoever pinched the jewelry left no trace. Nothing recorded on the security systems during that time but a bunch of static."

"How is it they were killed?" Hank queried. "I believe Shaw the younger would have been invulnerable to flame."

Mystique's face suddenly appeared in the monitor as she shoved Rogue to one side. She too was wearing a yellow HazMat suit. "What my dear daughter has neglected to tell you is that they were both killed with organophosphates. Poor schlubs didn't realize what was happening to them until they were vomiting their own viscera."

"Thanks for that image, Mystique," Emma said flatly.

"Wait, organo-what?" Iceman asked.

"That'd be nerve gas," Rogue replied, shoving Mystique back. "That's what got Homeland Security in a tizzy."

"They believe this to be a terrorist attack?" Hank asked skeptically.

"No way," Iceman said. "A robbery...nerve gas? C'mon, you put two and two together and you get Gambit, or Death, or whatever he's calling himself these days."

"Why burgle someone and then come back two days later to commit murder?" Hank asked. "That doesn't make sense."

"Since when has Gambit's recent behavior made any sense?" Bobby asked. "If he's willing to kill us, what would he care about the Shaws?"

Storm stiffened in her seat. "I do not believe it," she said coldly. "Gambit would not be capable of such a heinous act."

"That's where you're wrong, Storm," Rogue said, not bothering to veil her contempt. "Gambit's dead. There's only Death now. And he was willing t'stomp my head flat without a second thought."

Storm shook her head. "I refuse to believe Gambit is in control of his own actions," she said angrily.

"He's responsible for his own decisions," Rogue retorted.

"You were always quick to give up on him, Rogue," Storm said as she turned away from the monitor.

Rogue's expression was dark. "I got nothing else to report," she said, and the screen went black as she abruptly ended communications.

Karima turned her attention from the monitor back to the others in the room. "Storm, you mentioned the Morlock Tunnels?"

Storm glanced up at the Sentinel. "Yes," she said, slow to continue. "Three Morlocks were attacked, assassinated, it seems to me. They were shot and their bodies burned."

"It's odd," Karima said, and gestured to the computer she was still hooked in to. "Sabretooth attempted to escape into those same tunnels via the access corridor. When I caught up with him, he was involved in an altercation with a small number of Morlocks. I believe they were returning from grocery shopping, as they were pelting him with produce." Images of the battle appeared on the screen while Karima spoke, as her memories immediately downloaded to the computer.

The X-Men were silent for a moment as they pondered the incongruous image of Morlocks doing grocery shopping and Sabretooth being held at bay with apples and bananas.

"They stalled him long enough for me to apprehend him," Karima continued. "None of the Morlocks were seriously hurt, despite Creed manhandling them."

"This seems like an unusual coincidence," Hank said, his hand on his chin.

Storm gestured to Karima's monitor. "I cannot say for certain if these three Morlocks are the murdered victims. There is one other portion to my report...Marrow was kidnapped the same night as the killings. She seems to have vanished without a trace."

Bobby suddenly stood and exclaimed: "AH-HA!"

Everyone turned to look at him, save for Beast who was gathering up the sheaf of papers Iceman had scattered earlier.

"Care to enlighten us as to what you're ah-ha-ing about, Robert?" asked Emma.

Iceman snatched the papers from Beast and shook them at Emma. "What I was trying to tell you about, before I was so _rudely _interrupted," he cleared his throat self-importantly, "is that several of our former students have gone missing."

Emma's expression changed from scorn to concern. "Missing?"

"So far, we've found there are four students unaccounted for," Hank replied. "Dallas Gibson, Armena Ortega, Jim Prindle, and Marco Polo. All have been described by their legal guardians as having vanished."

"That would make five de-powered mutant teenagers," Storm said, "abducted, we should assume."

"Care to speculate about the connection between the kidnappings and these murders?" Emma asked.

"Other than the fact that they are occurring at the same time; and are possibly committed by the same agents who apparently can appear and disappear at will; I do not see how the two crimes relate," Karima said.

Emma leaned a hip against the meeting room table. "Our first action should be to contact the remaining students, and have them report to the Institute, for their own protection."

Bobby grinned smugly. "Done and done," he said, enjoying the moment he managed to one-up the headmistress. "The kids are on their way."

Emma fumed.

"Why does no one _tell_ me these things!?"


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Our sleeper reports they've started t'move the subjects to the Institute."

"Took them long enough to figure it out," the creature calling himself Random said as he idly gnawed on an unlit cigar, his feet up on the table. "We've been snatching kids for nearly a month now."

None of the other figures in the room spoke, though some shifted away from Random. The hugely muscled man was too brash. The last person to have spoken out of turn was laying in five separate pieces throughout the room. The gathered mutants known collectively as the Marauders looked to their leader wondering what he would do next.

One of them might have let out a sigh of relief when the man before them spoke.

"The X-teams are largely divided; some members are literally light-years away, and the remaining team is comprised of dysfunctional members who often act independently and wit'out direction," the speaker's voice was cold and wan. The audience of several of the most deadly mutant killers found themselves leaning forward unconsciously, in an effort to hear their leader better. Though none could be coerced to admit it, they all would have preferred to run screaming in the opposite direction.

Death eyed the gathered mutants with a cold basilisk glare.

The white and black clad mutant on Death's right side spoke: "In short," began Shiro Yashida, also known as Sunfire, "there is no better opportunity to strike than now."

Death glanced over at the young, curly haired mutant seated before the computer console. Her gaze remained fixed on him; it was the hungry, desperate stare of an addict in need of a fix. Though he despised her attentions, the necroplasmic energy absorber called Threnody was too useful to kill. Sinister would be upset, to say the least, if Death throttled the life from her as he so wanted to. It was Death that had drawn her here, through no action of his own; she had simply been pulled by the scent of death and the inner glow it gave her.

"The schematic," Death demanded, and she reluctantly turned away to key something into the computer. A bluish semi-transparent form appeared just above the circular table the Marauders had gathered around. It was a three-dimensional architectural rendering of the Xavier Institute and surrounding grounds. Death stuck his hand into the schematic, temporarily disrupting it as he touched several places on the hologram. "Random, Vertigo, Prism, Scrambler," he said, touching the rendering of the Institute once with each name. "You two will enter here..." he indicated Prism and Vertigo, "and you two," meaning Random and Scrambler, "here."

"What, we're just gonna walk through the front door?" asked Random.

Once again, Death showed remarkable restraint. Perhaps Random's life was spared because he could not be as easily cloned as the rest of the Marauders. "Our agent on the inside will provide you with the diversion needed to provide you wit' easy access. Your goals are to acquire the remaining subjects for experimentation, and _rendez-vous_ with the sleeper agent." Death touched the schematic again, pointing to the atrium on the third floor. "She will be here." A slim female form appeared in the area indicated as the atrium.

"She's a looker---." Random said.

"Silence!" cried Sunfire as the cigar in Random's mouth suddenly flared to life with a blast of heat. Surprised, the large mutant fell backward in his chair with a splat of protoplasm.

Threnody's spine went rigid with the sudden burst of energy. She was hooked into a machine which siphoned away extra energy. The machine beeped and hummed softly. She immediately slumped in disappointment.

Death was touching the schematic again, his hand darting along the perimeter of the Institute's grounds. "Harpoon, Arclight...and Riptide, once he is regenerated," their attention was brought back to the pieces of the clone formerly known as Riptide, which were scattered on the floor, "will be at these locations. Sunfire, you will reconnaissance from above."

Random had picked himself up from the floor and righted his chair. "And what are you and your buddy Greycrow gonna be up to?"

"Our objectives deal directly with Sinister's research. It is none of your concern, save for you t' know we'll be following in the wake of your entry."

Death continued, addressing the group as a whole: "It will be your objective to stop any of the infected from leaving the area. Threnody will indicate which of the mutants t'target upon receiving visual." Death turned to one of the other Marauders in the room. "The com-links?"

"Are ready," said Scalphunter as he rose. From a the nearby console, he retrieved the communication links the Marauders would be outfitted with. "The infrared optical sensor located in the eyepiece will track your eye movements," Scalphunter explained, as he distributed the com-links to the others. "The data will feed directly to Threnody. When one of the infected is in visual range, the cross-hairs seen in the eyepiece will turn red."

"I will remind you that none but the infected targets are t'be killed," said Death. "If you are forced into a difficult position, you will either teleport away via tesseract portal or call for backup. If you encounter and kill one of the targets, you will immediately contact either Prism or Sunfire to dispose of the remains. The virus is transferred by contact. If you are touched by one of the targets, immediately report to quarantine. Threnody is unable to detect our main target, Patient Zero, so you'll have t'use your own eyes and ears to find her."

"And if we do find her?" asked Scalphunter, his voice might have expressed concern.

"Like the others, she must be destroyed," replied Death. "At any cost."

After the Marauders had left, Sunfire turned to Death. "It's a good plan," he said.

Death had been watching Threnody reassemble Riptide's corpse with morbid fascination. She was currently making the dessicated zombie shamble about the room and pick up pieces of itself. Something about the zombie niggled a distant memory of fear and sadness in Death, though he had words no for these emotions. Eventually, he turned to Sunfire.

"Good?" asked Death. "It is sufficient, at best."

"You doubt our success?"

"Yes, 'doubt' is a good word," mused Death, finally able to identify one of those emotions he had begun to encounter more and more often. Doubt: uncertainty and lack of conviction. He nodded.

"Where the X-Men are concerned, I feel little else."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Regan Wyngarde, or Lady Mastermind as she was also called, trailed a languid hand over the balustrade. She was slowly walking up the staircase leading to the atrium. The day had cooled off considerably at nightfall, and Regan sought the atrium with the intention of getting some fresh air. Several more caterwauling teenagers had shown up at the doorstep that day; whining, complaining, arguing and sulking, as was their wont. She had little enough patience for kids as it was, and the place was all ready knee-deep in brats.

The glass door to the atrium sighed open, bringing with it the scent of damp earth and green things. To Regan's disappointment, Storm was wandering amongst the green leaves and trees, her normally serene face was shadowed with sadness and regret.

"Hey!" Regan said, as she closed the door behind her. Storm's head jerked up as she was startled out of her reverie. "Grow anything good in here?" Regan asked, as she mimed bringing a cigarette to her lips and sucking in. "Y'know, I could stand a little something to help me relax."

Storm looked at Regan with bewilderment. "I honestly have no idea what you are insinuating," she said.

"Geez, what are you, a babe in the woods? I asked if you got any pot, weed, the ganje? Mar-ih-wah-naaa!"

"Of course not!" Storm exclaimed. "This is a school!"

"You didn't smoke pot in school?" Regan asked.

Storm shook her head in frustration. "This conversation is inane." She walked past Regan and toward the door.

"What a tight-ass," Regan muttered.

Apparently, Storm had heard Regan's comment. The white-haired woman turned to retort when suddenly, the room, the hall and the surrounding grounds of the mansion were plunged into darkness.

Storm looked around. "What on earth...?"

"What's a-matter?" asked Regan.

"The mansion just lost power," Storm said, as she tried flicking the light switch by the door.

Regan looked upward as the light flashed on and off. "It did?"

Storm gave her an irritated look. "What do you mean by it, Regan? Do you seek to vex me? Well, you have succeeded. Can you not see the lights are off?"

Regan looked up at the blaring greenhouse lights, and shielded her eyes. "The lights are fine, chicky. Uhm...are you sure you haven't got a stash somewhere?"

"I do not know what game it is you are trying to play, Regan," said Storm as she turned to leave. "Karima mentioned some mechanical glitches. Perhaps I should go find her."

As Storm exited the atrium, she encountered several students milling about in the dark. "Hey, what's going on?" asked a younger girl when she banged into Storm by accident.

"I am not sure, child. Please, go back to your room until this is resolved. We can not all be stumbling over one another in the dark."

From somewhere downstairs came a loud crash that sent tremors through the floorboards. The sounds of chaos were quickly followed by frightened screams.

"By the Goddess!" Storm cried. "We are under attack!"

* * *

Cable and Cannonball ran down the hall leading to the front foyer. From up ahead came the rumble of disaster and the sharp staccato blasts of a firearm. Cable readied his own firearm, though he was loathe to discharge it in such close quarters, and with so many innocents nearby. For awhile, the duo ran in silence toward the sound of shouting and gunfire when Cable suddenly stopped short.

"Shouldn't we have arrived by now?" Cable asked.

Cannonball came to a stumbling halt. "Wh-what?" He looked around. "You're right. I swear I've passed that bust twice, now."

The sounds of chaos up ahead seemed to grow no nearer though they continued walking. "Something's wrong," Cable said, readying his weapon. Suddenly, the hall seemed to twist and writhe. Both men were thrown from their feet.

"Ack!" Cannonball cried, holding his hand over his mouth. "Feel sick...!"

Cable was practically doing a headstand as he tried to run along what he thought was the ceiling. It occurred to him that he shouldn't be able to run along the ceiling and he collapsed in a heap. From the carpeted floor, he could see two figures running toward him from a great distance.

"Those two?" asked the male figure.

"No, they're clean," the woman answered. There was a sudden blast of ultra-bright light from the man.

Cable tried to reach out and grab one of them in his blindness as they ran past, but only ended up grabbing the leg of a nearby settee which he wrestled to the ground.

"Cable!" cried Cannonball, who was trying to detach the older man from his battle with the furniture. "Cable, they've gone! We've got to go find the others."

Cable at last found his feet.

"C'mon, I can still hear the gunfire. It sounds like it's comin' from the boy's dorms!"

For awhile, the duo ran in silence toward the sound of shouting and gunfire.

"I swear I've passed that bust twice, now...!"

* * *

Sabretooth dropped to his feet and shook his shaggy head. He had no idea where he was. The last thing he remembered was that damned robot-girl tossing him into this tube-thingy, while Wolverine stood by with a gloating look on his stupid mug.

The big man righted himself as he surveyed his surroundings. He saw, too late, the red flash of a laser scope above his heart. He jerked back as two silent sniper bullets pierced his chest. Sabretooth fell back into the machinery around him with a crash and a roar. Another bullet whizzed past his ear, skimming the surface of his skull. Sabretooth seized a chair from near where he had fallen and flung it at the sniper. The man dodged away and fled through the doorway.

"Oh, so you want me t'follow y'out there, do you?" Sabretooth snarled. He cast one more look around the room. The monitor nearby was flashing: Security Disarmed, in big red letters. Creed grabbed the monitor and ripped it from the wall with the spark and buzz of electrical wires. He ran out into the hall with a scream and hurled the large monitor down the hallway. It clattered down the corridor in a rain of sparks and shattering glass.

The assailant suddenly leaped from the cover of a nearby doorwell and fired. "Aw, shit!" Creed snarled and dove to the ground. He caught a glimpse of the shooter. The partially mechanical man was raising his rifle, the eyepiece over his right eye blinking red. "Frickin' Greycrow! I'm gonna rip yer damn Injun face off!" Another bullet winged his shoulder, and he took a fourth in the thigh. With a growl of admitted defeat and a series of curse words, he turned tail and ran. Bullets peppered the walls behind him.

Scalphunter was about to pursue the fleeing feral, when he was brought up short by the sight of a pale mist creeping along the metal floor.

"Don't worry," came a voice from the mist. "It won't kill you. Though I don't recommend breathing it, if you can help it."

Scalphunter backed up a few paces as Death emerged from the roiling mist. He was carrying a haversack over one shoulder, his long axe-like staff held in the opposite hand.

"You got the samples?"

"Like taking...how d'you say...Candies from infants?" Death wore that somewhat befuddled look he often had when trying to remember something.

"Something like that," Scalphunter said, as the mist slowly cleared, revealing a large, blue-furred form stretched out along the hall. "He's clean?" he asked, when his optical readout remained clear. "That's surprising."

"He must've had the good sense to wear gloves around Patient Zero. Sinister will be pleased," Death said, as he passed Scalphunter. "He is fond of the good doctor."

"Fine. Mission accomplished. Now, let's get the hell out of here before the others show up."

"Are you forgetting something?" Death turned slightly, and eyed Scalphunter with one glowing eye.

"What's that?"

"Patient Zero. I thought I'd give her a proper send-off," Death grinned the macabre grin of the mentally deranged. He blew a kiss into the air. "The kiss of Death, so to speak."

* * *

A bolt of lightning left a crater in the floor inches from Random's foot. He jumped up and down on one leg. "Ooo, ah, hot hot hot!"

Storm readied another strike as Random waved his hands as if to ward her off. "Look, lady, y'don't wanna do this!"

"You attack us in our own home! You endanger the lives of innocents!" Storm crackled with building energy.

"Well, I didn't want to bring this up, but," Random's form rippled and Storm watched with growing horror as a small face appeared amidst the writhing ribbons of the big man's protoplasmic form. The little girl gasped, her eyes wide with fear. Another child's hands and a leg appeared. Limbs flailed frantically. Random had apparently captured several students and had hidden them inside his undulating form.

"Release them at once!" Storm cried.

"No can do, weather lady," as he pointed his fist at her. Several gun barrels formed where his arm should be. "Now, I need you to back off. I don't wanna hurt you, Angel Face."

Storm looked at a loss for a moment, before she screamed: "X-Men! To me!"

However, she failed to get the response she desired. Instead, a potted plant tumbled down from the balcony above and struck her on the top of her head. Storm fell in a moaning heap at Random's feet. He looked up to see a tall, lissome blond looking down at him. She held a rose to her face and inhaled. Random grinned.

"Malice, I presume?"

* * *

Hank McCoy groaned and rubbed his head. He sat up slowly as his surroundings came into focus. He was abruptly blasted with a beam of light.

"Agh!" he cried, shielding his eyes.

"Flashlight?" asked a voice out of the darkness.

Blinking rapidly, his vision cleared to reveal Emma Frost proffering a flashlight.

"Thanks a lot," he said, snatching it away from the woman.

"What's going on here?" Emma asked.

"I was hoping you'd tell me," Hank asked.

Emma closed her eyes and tried to concentrate. Her eyes flashed open. "The Marauders," she said breathlessly.

Hank's heart gave a jolt. "But how did they get inside without our knowing?"

Emma shook her head. "I'm calling the others together. We're too scattered."

Hank stood and looked into his nearby lab, shining the flashlight into the corners. The beam fell upon the empty shelves of a nearby cabinet. "Oh, no."

Emma was too preoccupied to respond. Beast approached the empty cabinet, which had moments ago, contained the DNA samples of the mansion's students. The light fell upon a card, sitting on the bare shelves. Who would have left him with a playing card? The answer filled him with growing dread.

However, as he picked up the card, he saw it was not a playing card, as he had expected. Instead, the solemn face of a saint looked up at him entreatingly. The figure on the card bore an axe-like spear on one shoulder, a pentecostal flame burned above the saint's head. He turned it over. 'Saint Jude, patron of hopeless cases, of things almost despaired of,' he read.

Hank turned as Emma gasped.

"They're too confused," she said. "I can't raise them. We have to go!"

"Very well," said Hank as he tucked the card away. He seized Emma and slung her over his back. She shrieked with surprise as Hank bounded down the hallway, her arms around his neck as she hung on for dear life.

* * *

"This way!" Wolverine growled as he stalked along the edge of the lake. Karima pounded after him, her eyes scanning the grounds for signs of Sabretooth. Here and there, large droplets of blood smattered the ground, shining inky black in the moonlight. Wolverine was so intent on following Sabretooth's trail, he failed to notice the sudden flare of light from the tree line.

"Logan!" Omega Sentinel cried. "Look out!"

A glowing spear launched from the darkness. Logan dodged, and the spear arced over his head. However, he found with sudden realization, the spear had not been aimed at him. With a shattering blast, the spear struck Karima dead-on in the chest. She gave an electric-sounding shriek that echoed across the lake as the lance detonated.

"Karima!" Wolverine cried. Splashes in the surface of the water alerted him to a fast approaching presence. He looked away from where the Omega Sentinel lay to see a whirling formation coming at him from across the lake. Bone shuriken shredded the nearby vegetation. A figure lunged from the brush and began running. With a grunt of surprise, Wolverine recognized Sabretooth running full tilt in his direction. Logan readied his claws.

"Don't just stand there, ya dumb mook!" Sabretooth was screaming. "Get the hell outta the way!"

Another charged spear launched from the cover of the trees. Wolverine fell back and was bowled over by a fleeing Sabretooth as the spear exploded nearby.

"Y'don't mean t'tell me you're not with these guys?" Wolverine exclaimed as Sabretooth continued to gallop back toward the mansion. He got no answer as shards of bone blew up chunks of dirt around him. Wolverine threw up his arms to protect his eyes from the flying debris whipped up in Riptide's wake. The whirling mutant soared past him without so much as a backward glance.

Wolverine looked up as a flame-trail streaked across the sky. At first, he was hoping to see the familiar form of Rogue appear. However, as the fireball grew nearer, he saw it was not Rogue, but the former Horseman, Sunfire. A blast of flame incinerated the twitching form of the Omega Sentinel as Sunfire roared past.

Wolverine's cry of protest was lost amongst the gush of flames. When he was able to see through the fire, he saw there was little left but a streak of scorched earth. Wolverine turned with a furious snarl as Sunfire streaked by a second time. As he turned, he spotted the Marauder Harpoon striding toward him.

"Creed touched you, didn't he?" the thickheaded mutant asked him. "That's too, too bad."

Wolverine had no idea what Harpoon was talking about, and he launched himself at the Marauder with insane furor. However, he was slammed back with a blast of heat from Sunfire. Logan rolled several feet through the long grass.

He looked up to see a tall female form standing over him. The eyepiece covering her right eye blinked red several times, then cleared. "Hm," the woman known as Arclight said. "Do I or don't I?" She raised her leg over Wolverine's head. "How 'bout once more for old time's sake?"

Arclight didn't have time to decide before a blue-white lightning bolt streaked from the sky, flinging her back with a hiss of electricity and a clap of thunder. Drenching rain immediately followed. Logan looked up, the after-image of the lightning bolt leaving green and orange spots in his vision. Storm soared overhead, her robes whipping about in the gale force winds. She looked pretty angry.

Logan grinned wickedly as he leaped to his feet and streaked toward the standing figures of Harpoon and Sunfire.

There was going to be hell to pay.

* * *

Cable and Cannonball came to a panting halt, finding themselves in the same hallway. Then the lights suddenly came on, revealing a well-worn carpet and wisps of smoke.

"What happened?" Cannonball asked.

"Whatever rat race we've been running just ended," Cable growled. "And I'll give you one guess as to who is behind it all."

Cannonball didn't get a chance to reply, as the door behind him flew open and a hand reached out and tapped him on top of the head. Cannonball collapsed in a heap, twitching.

Cable raised his weapon and blasted the doorway. Bits of wood and plaster sprayed in all directions. Cable leaped in front of the door, firing several blasts as he did so. Little flames smoldered inside the room, and debris crashed down in all directions. After several moments, nothing moved. Cable crept forward a few inches to stand over the form of his fallen colleague. Sam appeared unconscious, but was otherwise breathing normally. All at once, he heard the voice of Emma Frost echoing in his head.

"Where is everyone!?" she exclaimed. Her psychic contact was ill-timed.

Cable looked up in time to see an overly familiar marble bust flying at his head. The bust clipped his forehead and sent him sprawling across the hall. He fired off a few shots that went wide, and the spry figure of the Marauder known as Scrambler landed on his chest.

"Nighty-night!" Scrambler cried and his hands grabbed hold of Cable's bare arms. Cable's body jerked in agony as the techno-organic infection afflicting him suddenly flared out of his control. He found he could no longer access his telekinesis or telepathy. He struggled to teleport to safety, but his body was spasming uncontrollably. It was a struggle just to breathe!

Scrambler suddenly jerked above him; the Marauder's eyes went wide. Cable felt hot blood spatter across his face and chest.

I've been hit?, he tried to feel out where he'd been struck. But it was Scrambler whose mouth opened and his scream came out as a wet gurgle. The sharp end of a spear was jutting out from the center of Scrambler's chest. The Marauder jerked again, and collapsed onto Cable's chest. Cable hadn't the strength to shove his attacker away, but he found the weight of the dead mutant suddenly lifted.

Death was standing above Cable, his figure back-lit by the overhead light. He kicked Scrambler's body away.

"What did I tell you?" he asked the corpse. "Didn't I tell you _not_ to kill them that's not infected?"

"Gam---uh, Death!" called a voice from down the hall. Cable could barely turn his head, but from the corner of his eye, he managed to spot Scalphunter beckoning the Horseman. "Two targets are just ahead!"

Death brought his weapon down with a sharp ringing sound, neatly taking off the head of the Marauder Scrambler. Cable closed his eyes as another spray of blood hit him in the face. Death then calmly stepped over Cable's prone form and followed after Scalphunter. Freed from Scrambler's grip, he was now able to wrangle the techno-organic infection back under control. However, the effort expended the remainder of his strength, and he found himself falling into unconsciousness.

* * *

Mystique and Pulse jumped from the second story balcony to land in the just-turned flowerbed below. They'd only just received the summons from Emma to regroup and assess their losses. They were headed toward the stables. They spotted several of the 198 and the Institute students running in that direction. On the outskirts of the grounds, they saw the roiling mass of clouds and the flash of lightning and streak of flames. The overall confusion was undoubtedly caused by some creation of Lady Mastermind, though to what purpose, it was yet unclear.

"Are you able to cancel out the rest of Regan's illusions?" Mystique asked Pulse as they ran after the other mansion inhabitants.

"I can try," Pulse answered, closing his eyes briefly in concentration. His steps faltered and he nearly fell, but Mystique seized his arm and pulled him upright.

"What is it?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know..." his voice slurred. "I feel---I feel kinda sick."

Mystique gasped and yanked Pulse upright, she put her hands to either side of his face, which quickly began to turn blue. "Augustus!" She was shocked when his face seemed to waver and form in her hands. He was looking at her, mouth agape, when the side of his head burst in a spray of blood and bone fragments. Mystique shrieked in horror as Pulse collapsed dead at her feet. She looked up, searching for the source of the attack. She spotted the glint of moonlight on metal and dove to the side as a sniper's bullet whispered into the dirt where she had just been. The sniper was taking aim from the balcony she and Pulse had leaped from moments ago. Mystique scrambled backwards and away, surging to her feet and running for cover. Her shoulder-blades itched as if she could feel the sniper's scope take aim at her back. She feinted and found her intuition was right; the bullet whizzed past her into the darkness.

She heard the sound of footsteps running after her in the grass. She risked a glance behind. A cloaked form was hot on her heels. Yanking her gun from his holster, she blindly fired behind as she ran. Something soared over her head in an arc and struck the earth before her. Too late, she nearly ran into the projectile and stumbled in her effort to avoid it. She was seized from behind and borne to the ground. Her attacker hit the ground beside her, and the breath woofed out of his lungs.

Mystique rolled away from the attacker and onto her back. She raised her firearm, but her wrist was forced to the ground as her attacker fell atop her. He pushed himself back, and threw his long hair out of his eyes. Mystique sucked in a breath to scream out with both fear and rage. But a black hand clamped down over her mouth and her lungs suddenly filled with burning poison. Terror gave her newfound strength and she flung Death away. He rolled aside, with a dry sound that might have been a laugh. Mystique climbed to her hands and knees, trying to crawl away as she retched. The Horseman slowly rose to his feet behind her, walked over to where his scythe lay embedded in the grass, and yanked it free. She felt, rather than saw him raise his weapon behind her. Any moment now, and her head would fly free from her neck. Mystique turned and collapsed onto her back, preferring to face her death rather than be executed from behind.

She heard a dim, tinny squawk of sound come from the communication-link looped over Death's right ear. "Patient Zero spotted! Death! Incoming, incoming!"

Death paused, then whirled around just as a green and white streak plowed into his chest, trailing a comet's tail of flames.

Mystique struggled to breathe as she stared up into the night sky. A flash of light made her turn her head. The crystalline man, Prism, was running full tilt in her direction. She flailed her limbs in an effort to right herself. Prism unleashed an intense beam of light which scorched the grass not far from where she lay. She blinked back tears, and watched as Pulse's body erupted in flame. She couldn't scream or cry out, as her tongue swelled in her mouth. She felt herself begin to suffocate. Prism turned to her, and from a distance, it appeared as if his right eye were blinking red. She saw him raise his arm and take aim at her. She looked around hopefully for Rogue, but her daughter had vanished into the forest with Death.

Her breath wheezed out of her lungs and fell back in the grass as the light brightened. But then she felt a blast of intense cold as Iceman slid past her. Iceman pummeled the Marauder with sheets upon sheets of ice. It became bone-achingly cold, and the metamorph struggled to crawl away.

In the darkness, she saw a bulky form lumbering toward her. Mystique put her head down, thinking things couldn't possibly get worse. The large form revealed itself to be Sabretooth, and she inwardly groaned.

Wolverine was just behind. From above came the roar of winds, and Storm lowered herself from the glowering clouds. A double strike of lightning came from above, crashing into the frozen form of Prism. Shards of ice and crystal flew through the air with lethal force. Raven found herself saved within a protective bubble of ice. Iceman was sliding over to her, his icy face a mask of fear.

"Raven!" he cried. "Are you all right?!"

"Nnuh," was all she could manage before her world went black.

* * *

Trees whipped past as Rogue carried Death deeper into the forest. She slammed him through several stout branches before finally releasing him. He flew several more feet before crashing to the forest floor in a shower of withered leaves and twigs.

Rogue was breathing hard, and for one heart-stopping moment, the forest was completely still. She was certain she'd killed him. Then she heard a muffled sound. He was saying something to her.

"What?" she asked, as she landed several feet from where Death lay.

"I said: You lost me my scythe!" he roared and flung several blades in her direction. She narrowly dodged the spinning projectiles and they neatly embedded themselves in the tree behind her.

Rogue lunged for Death's throat. He met her lunge and used her momentum to toss her further into the woods. Rogue struck a tree and landed on her hands and knees. A shower of twigs rained down from the branches above. She scrambled to her feet as Death came after her, cold loathing in his eyes. They met in the middle with a crash, and Rogue landed on top of the Horseman. She grappled with his arms, trying to force his hands away from her throat. For a moment, their faces were inches apart. Her green eyes bore into his red. Rogue could no longer see any trace of the man she once knew in that hateful face.

"This is the end for you, sugar," she breathed into his face.

Death freed one of his legs from beneath Rogue's. With a lurch, she found herself pressed beneath his body; his hair fell down on either side of her face. Then, to her shock and revulsion, he crushed his mouth to hers.

Rogue felt a sudden deluge of horror fill her mind. Agony lanced through her body as memories of Gambit's grotesque transformation into Death flashed past. Invasions of the mind and body that were intimate and obscene. She could hear nothing over the sounds of her own screams.

It was the cruelest thing he could think to do to her. Death pulled away from the screaming woman, found his footing and stumbled a few feet. He collapsed in the leaf litter not too far from Rogue. He needed to kill her, he thought, as he pulled a blade from his belt. She was Patient Zero. She was unclean.

She would kill them all.

Death gasped and fell to his knees, the blade fell from his slack fingers. He fell forward into the loamy earth.

A voice was echoing in his right ear. It sounded far away. He awoke and idly wondered why he was laying face down in the dirt. Face down in the gutter was what he expected, so this was a slight improvement. Where the hell was he?

"Death! Horseman!" the voice was calling. Then finally, he heard: "Gambit!"

"Greycrow?" he answered the disembodied voice.

"I'm approaching your location, are you injured?"

He tried to take stock of his situation, but his brain felt oddly detached from the rest of his body. "I dunno," he said at last. At least his mouth was working. But then, people had often told him before that his mouth seemed to work without much conscious thought.

He didn't hear the sound of Greycrow approaching. He was only aware of the other man's presence when Scalphunter rolled him onto his back.

"Hey, G.C.," Gambit said. "How's tricks?"

Scalphunter looked down into the face of the man he once called friend. He was startled by the recognition he saw in the other man's eyes. His eyes were drawn away by the woman rocking and crooning to herself in the dirt a few yards away. He reached for his weapon, but Gambit's hand staid him.

"Don't do it, _homme_," Gambit whispered.

Though Gambit's grip was weak, Scalphunter was unable to tear himself away from the force of the other man's gaze. "Now you listen to me this time. We're getting the hell out of here," Greycrow said.

"Okie doke," Gambit said, before he fell back into the dirt.

Scalphunter reached for the armband clasped around Gambit's (or was it Death's?) wrist. He set the coordinates and activated the tesseract portal that would allow him to transport back to Sinister's base of operations. Scalphunter lifted Gambit in a fireman's carry. A rectangular hole in space appeared, and with Scalphunter bearing his friend's unconscious body, they disappeared into thin air.

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks for reading so far. The story is finished, and I will be posting the chapters as my beta finishes them. Feedback is appreciated. 


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Black gave way to pearly gray, and finally resolved into dim light. He became conscious gradually, and the objects hanging over him resolved into several suspended lamps, which were mercifully dark. He smelled the clinical stink of antiseptic and heard the faint sounds of monitoring equipment.

Some part of his mind was screaming in panic. However, Death still had that curious feeling of unreality, as if he were in a dream and the world was just an illusion. He considered trying to move, but it seemed like too great an effort. There was also the matter of the crushing pressure on his chest that was making it difficult to breathe.

The weight lifted somewhat, and Threnody's face appeared in his line of vision. He realized the pressure he was feeling was from her body, which was laying on top of him. Revulsion at physical contact mingled with the nausea he was experiencing from the anesthesia. She had draped herself along the length of his body, and he realized to his growing disgust, he was wearing nothing but a sheet.

Threnody was moaning in what seemed to be both pleasure and misery. Her cheek, when she pressed it alongside his own, was wet with tears. She was trying to hug his body close to her own. "I won't let it happen," she was whispering. "I won't, I won't, I won't..."

Death wished he could slip back into unconsciousness. She had her face pressed into his chest now, and was rocking back and forth as she cried. He was thankful at least, for the anesthesia that prevented him from feeling her skin touching his. She righted herself, her legs straddling his hips, and he saw that her front was covered in blood. He wondered how she had hurt herself, to have lost so much blood. She raised her right hand, which was equally as blood smeared. In her grip was a scalpel.

She stroked his face with the opposite hand. "I'll remember you as you are, right now," she whispered, and lowered the blade to his throat. "How beautiful you are to me."

He understood then that the blood was not hers, but his own. And that by killing him and absorbing the necroplasmic energy from him as he died, she would achieve the ultimate high. He did not feel the blade pierce his neck, but did hear the squeal of one of the monitors nearby as his heart began to race. The sound distracted Threnody for a moment, and she failed to see the figure of Sinister suddenly appear. He backhanded her and sent her flying from the operating table.

Threnody hit the ground with a resounding thud.

"You stupid girl," Sinister said.

"You can't change him back, you can't," Threnody said. Death could no longer see her, but he heard her gain her footing on the cold metal floor.

"I can, and have," Sinister replied.

"Nooo," Threnody moaned. "No, he told you not to! He said he wouldn't let you!"

Sinister turned away from the woman's hysterics to tend the medical equipment. He made an adjustment to one of the machines before examining Death's wounds. "I'm afraid he is no longer capable of making decisions for himself. My hand has been forced."

Death's vision swam as Sinister spoke: "Fortunately for our Horseman, Apocalypse afforded his creation with a super-human tolerance for pain as well as a particular immunity to disease and infection. Which should carry him through this next transformation successfully. It won't be long now."

Sinister, Threnody and the lab grew distant, and eventually disappeared.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Rogue woke when a smattering of raindrops fell from the rustling leaves above. She blinked in the bright morning sunlight. Groaning, she rolled over, hiding her face from the sun. Every muscle in her body screamed in pain. She managed to climb to her hands and knees. As she hung her head, her hair fell in snarled curls around her face. Her stomach heaved, but there was nothing in her stomach to throw up. Her stomach muscles ached painfully. Wiping the back of her gloved hand across her mouth, she finally managed to stand.

Rogue staggered a bit as she surveyed the small forest clearing. There was no sign of Death, save for the few scuffed up areas where they had fought. A glint of light caught her eye. She slowly walked over to the nearby tree, and looked at the blades embedded in the trunk. She worked the blade free and held it in her hand. She saw it was actually a surgeon's scalpel. She dropped the blade as if burned. The world whirled, and she leaned her head against the tree, waiting for the vertigo to pass.

Fearfully, she probed her memories of last night. Her back spasmed painfully, and she clutched at the trunk to steady herself. She was terribly afraid. She realized that the fear was not her own, but Death's. He had no words to describe what he was feeling, fear was simply his way of life. There seemed to be nothing before Apocalypse; nothing of Remy LeBeau. It was if he'd been erased. Or was an entirely different person.

In the distance, someone called her name.

"I'm here," she tried to reply, but her voice came out as a dry croak.

"Rogue!"

"Here," she waved her arm when she caught a flash of yellow amongst the trees. "Logan!"

"There y'are, girl," Wolverine said, as he approached. He peered into her face. "You okay?"

Rogue nodded.

He extended his arm to help her, but she shied away.

"No, don't touch me," she rasped.

"Can y'make it back to the house?" Wolverine asked.

Rogue began walking, with Logan following close behind. Her long green cloak caught on branches as she walked, but she paid it no mind. "Y'didn't happen to find a scythe out here, didja?"

"A scythe? No, just you, darlin'."

Rogue experienced an odd feeling of loss. The trees gave way to the green expanse of the X-Mansion's lawn. The grass was marred here and there with large craters and smoldering earth. Wisps of steam and smoke rose in the dewy morning air. Otherwise, all appeared as normal.

"Where are the Marauders?" Rogue asked.

"Two were killed: Prism and Scrambler. Though they're not likely to stay that way for long. We had Harpoon and Arclight in lockup---."

"Had?"

"Yah, but they kicked. Found 'em dead in their cells earlier this morning. We know that Vertigo, Scalphunter, and Riptide were also here, but they've vanished."

"A real blast from the past," Rogue said dryly.

"I guess Sunfire and Random have decided to throw in with that lot, as well."

"And those crazy illusions? Lady Mastermind, I assume. I was trapped in my closet for what felt like hours."

"Doin' what?" Logan asked.

"I couldn't find anything to wear," Rogue said with a sardonic grin. "Everything had turned to polyester."

Wolverine waited patiently as Rogue limped up the front steps and through the broken front door. "Everyone's in Emma's office," he said. "What's left of us, anyway."

"What d'you mean? What's happened?"

He walked past her and pushed open the office door. Rogue followed slowly. Emma was leaning against the ledge of her desk, arms crossed, her back to the broken window. Storm was seated in one of the leather wing chairs, holding a cold cup of tea in her hands. When Rogue entered, Storm moved to rise, but Rogue raised her hand to stay her.

Iceman let out a relieved breath, which came out in a puff of frozen air. "Rogue, we were worried."

Beast rose and offered Rogue his chair. She accepted it reluctantly. Cannonball stood guard over a hunkering Sabretooth. The feral man wore a hefty collar and his hands were shackled.

"Wh-where's Raven?" Rogue asked, dreading the answer. "Cable...Karima?"

Hank smoothed the front of his lab coat. "Raven and Cable are both in the ICU. Raven remains in critical condition, but Cable may be upgraded to stable. Raven is undergoing a treatment of activated charcoal to prevent absorption of the poison she was exposed to. My next course of action is system irrigation, but I am hoping her own regenerative abilities will help in the detoxification process."

Rogue swallowed dryly. "What about Karima?"

"She was killed," Wolverine said. "While we were tracking Creed."

Rogue could not hide her expression of shock and dismay. Emma poured a glass of water from the pitcher on her desk and handed it to Rogue, which she accepted gratefully.

"What's become of Lady M?" Cannonball asked. "She betrayed us?"

Creed snorted derisively. "Lady M? That thing ain't no _lady_."

Emma leveled a glare at Sabretooth. "Do you have something to add, Creed?"

"I thought I smelled something rank on her, and I was right."

"Spill it, all ready," growled Logan.

"Wouldn't a'thought it was possible, but that dirty little mind thief Malice got its claws into your Lady," Sabretooth said.

"And for whatever reason, you didn't feel the need to inform us?" Emma asked icily.

"Hey, I didn't think it would effect me any. Besides, I was locked up in that tube-thing most of the time."

"And ya can just go back there and rot, for all I care," snarled Rogue. Sabretooth's gaze targeted on Rogue.

"You seem t'have forgotten who was it that saved your sorry chicken-fried ass from that Pandemic freak. If it weren't for you borrowin' my healing factor, you'da been dead in minutes. By the way, you ain't lookin' so good," Victor Creed smirked in the corner. "You need another dose of my kinda medicine?"

Cannonball gave Sabretooth a sharp kick. "Shut it, you."

Sabretooth held a manacled hand over his grinning mouth. "I hear you're single now. Maybe this time, we can get a little more personal? C'mon Roguey, give us a kiss."

Wolverine's claws flashed out, but Rogue beat him to the punch. She grabbed a side-table and hurled it in Sabretooth's direction. "You sick...degenerate...freak!" The table smashed over Creed's head and shattered into splinters. "I'll kill you myself!" She screamed and threw herself at the feral mutant. Beast seized Rogue by her arms to prevent her from pummeling Sabretooth into a pulp.

Rogue flailed her legs and shrieked in fury. "Don't touch me! Don't touch me!" she cried over and over again. The other X-Men were surrounding her, trying to urge her to relax. She freed one of her arms from Hank's grip and swung at him. Wolverine grabbed her swinging arm, and together the two men dragged the manic woman to her chair and forced her to sit. Rogue sank her teeth into Wolverine's shoulder, and lashed out at the two men with her legs. She was deaf to their pleas for calm. Black veins crawled across her face. Her pupils shrank to pinpricks and her eyes burned red. She began to shout profanities in ancient and long-forgotten languages.

"Stand back!" Emma cried, and both Wolverine and Beast leaped back as Emma threw the water from the pitcher into Rogue's face.

Rogue spluttered, her eyes wide as water dripped from her face and hair. "Wha-what?!" Rogue gasped. She looked around at the other X-Men who were staring at her with mixed expressions of fear and worry. Cannonball had dragged Sabretooth from the room during the melee. The image of a long handled spear flashed in her mind; it swung down at Sabretooth, cutting a bloody swath from shoulder to groin. She felt an intense paroxysm of pleasure at this fantasy, and shook her head violently to try and rid herself of it. She buried her face in her hands.

"Rogue, can you hear me?" Beast crouched before her and she looked up at him.

"Yah, sugah, I hear you fine," she replied. She saw that he had a split lip and a lump forming over his eye. "Sorry, Hank."

"You tried to---absorb---Gambit?" Iceman asked incredulously.

Rogue shook her head again. "No, not Gambit. Death," Rogue said, shuddering at the thought. "He kinda forced me into it."

Storm was by her side. "Are you hurt?" she asked. "Would you like to rest?"

"No, I think I'm fine now," she replied and drew a deep breath. "If we could get back to business. Is there anything else I should know about?"

Emma resumed her position, sitting on the top of her desk. She kept her hands tight on the desk ledge to keep her fingers from shaking. "Pulse was also killed in the confusion last night," she said finally. "And three of the de-powered Institute students were taken by Random."

"Taken alive?" Rogue asked.

Storm nodded. "Yes. Random had trapped them within his body. I was attacked from above, I assume by Lady M---or Malice, rather. When I awoke moments later, the pair had vanished along with the children."

"Do you have any idea why they would be kidnapping these kids?" Iceman asked Storm, but he glanced at Rogue as he did so.

Rogue rubbed her temple. "Something to do with a vaccine..." she muttered. "Sinister's doing some kind of research with them."

"A vaccine?" Hank asked, alarmed. "For what?"

"I'm not quite sure," she replied. "I only know he needs them alive. And that they have to be protected no matter what. At least, that's the impression I'm getting from Death's memories."

Hank sat back on his haunches and considered Rogue for a moment. He then reached into his lab coat and produced a card from an inner pocket. "Rogue, does this mean anything to you?" he asked, proffering the card.

Rogue took the card and looked at it. "It's a Catholic holy card," she said. She knew Remy had several of them tucked away in his Bible, to mark certain places in the scripture. He'd once joked that it was kind of like collecting baseball cards; if only the Yankees could perform miracles. He'd meant it as a self-deprecating joke, but she knew how seriously he took those prayer cards. The memory of it brought tears to her eyes.

"Does it have any significance to you, or rather, to Death?" Hank pressed.

"Well, I know this is one of the one's they usually hand out at hospitals. But other than that, I don't know much about it. Why? Where'd you find it?"

"While Emma and I were both incapacitated by an oneirogen gas, several blood samples were taken from my lab. I found this card on the empty shelf."

"You think Death left it for you? That it might mean something?" Iceman asked, skeptically. "Seriously, Hank, the dude is whacked out of his mind. You saw what just happened with Rogue, didn't you?"

The communication link on Emma's desk beeped. As they turned, they spotted an ONE transport landing in the front lawn. "That'll be Cooper," Emma said. "I have a feeling I'll have a lot of explaining to do."

"In the meantime," Storm said as she rose to her feet, "we can ready our dead for burial. It seems this is becoming all too familiar to me."

"If y'all don't mind," Rogue said, shakily standing, "I think I'd like to go visit Raven."

The remaining X-Men left the room, one by one.

* * *

(X-Men #196 again, Pandemic infected Rogue with Strain 88).

(sleeping gas. Haha. You learned a new word).


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"Sinister has manipulated the failsafe Apocalypse placed in me to suit his purposes," Death said. "Does he suspect us?"

"No matter, he's just taking out an insurance policy."

"I cannot betray him."

"You won't have to. I'll continue as we planned."

"You don't have the stomach for it."

"You'd be surprised at the lengths I'd go to...What I'm willing to sacrifice, for love or for hate."

"But you do not have my power...the power to defeat him."

"You haven't see me when I'm at the top of my game."

Death's silence was laced with doubt.

"Do you want to be a slave forever?" the bodiless voice asked.

After several long moments, Death asked: "What does it feel like, to be free?"

"I suppose we'll find out together."

* * *

(See X-Men #186, Apocalypse says he's placed an Achilles Heel in Death's flesh, should Death try to betray him.) 


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Rogue sat in a chair beside her adoptive mother's bedside. It wasn't all that long ago that their roles were reversed. Mystique lay under an oxygen tent, tubes ran into her nose and mouth. A machine regulated her breathing. Her skin had a purplish, bruised look. She had yet to regain consciousness. Bobby stood beside Rogue, looking down at Raven's still form.

"She doesn't seem to be getting any better, does she?" Bobby asked.

"It's early yet," Rogue said firmly.

"Yeah, but Hank said she's got a regenerative healing factor. She should be repairing herself, right?"

"I dunno. I didn't think she could be poisoned either, but turns out I was wrong," Rogue stood and walked to the door. "You comin' with me?" she asked.

"Coming where?"

"Cleveland."

"What? As in: Cleveland, Ohio? No way, why? What's in Cleveland?"

"An entrance to one of Sinister's labs. I seen it in Death's head, " Rogue said, tapping a finger to her temple. "It's the closest one."

"You're kidding me," Bobby said. "Sinister's got a base in Cleveland? What for?"

"It's the location of several foremost medical centers in the world, for one," Rogue replied.

Bobby pondered this for a moment as he followed after Rogue. "Rogue, we've lost Omega Sentinel, Cable and Mystique are out of commission, and Lady M's defected or has been possessed, and I trust Sabretooth about as far as I can throw him...There's not much of our team left."

"We'll just have t'make do," Rogue replied.

"What d'ya mean, 'make do,'?" Wolverine asked as he appeared out of the shadows with Storm just behind him. "That's insultin'."

* * *

Hank pulled a sheet over the body of Arclight and pushed the gurney from the holding cell. Her body was deteriorating at a rapid pace, and was beginning to smell.

"Dance on her grave for me, will ya?" Sabretooth growled from a nearby cell.

Hank paused before the doorway to Sabretooth's prison. "These bodies will be incinerated. There's not going to be a grave."

"Enh, that's just as well," Sabretooth said. "Sinister probably cranked out another one an hour after that one croaked."

"Do you know very much about Sinister's cloning process?" Hank queried.

"This 'n that," Sabretooth replied.

"Do you, by chance, know of an entrance to Sinister's laboratory?"

"Nope," Sabretooth said. "All the ones I knew about got destroyed. Why? You gonna go door to door selling Girl Scout cookies, or somethin'?"

"It _concerns_ me, Victor, that Sinister has in his possession eight teenagers, who at one time were affiliated with this institution. _And_ that he is conducting some sort of experimental research on them. _And_ that two former X-Men happen to be in his employ. Not to mention the heinous acts his Marauders have committed in his name, and to what end? Is that reason enough to want to seek him out?"

"So, is that the long and short of it?" Sabretooth asked. "Because it occurred to _me_, Mister Smarty-Pants McCoy, that if anyone's got a chance at improving the current 'no-more-mutants,' our-race-is-doomed-to-extinction situation, it's flippin' Sinister."

Hank stared at Sabretooth for several long moments. It bothered him that Creed was able to see through him so easily. "If you've no intention of being any use, then I'll be going," he said, as he began to wheel Arclight's body away.

"Hey, doc," Sabretooth said, and Hank paused. "You want t'get in with Sinister? The solution to your problem is layin' on that cart." Creed pointed a clawed finger at the sheet-covered corpse. "But you gotta act fast, before it decomposes and destroys the key entirely."

"What 'key' are you talking about?" asked Hank.

"All them clones have got these key chips put in their lower spine. Lets Sinister know where they're at, but also lets 'em open one of those tesseract doors."

"Are you certain?"

"Well, they can pop in and out whenever they like, just like Sinister. 'Cept the portal only opens for the one that's got the chip. No tag-alongs. It senses body mass, or something. "

"Which would explain Random's rather unique method of transporting the children away from the Institute."

"I can't speak fer Random or Gambit or whoever else is calling themselves a Marauder these days. They ain't clones," Sabretooth said with a shrug, and sat down on the bare mattress in his cell.

"So there isn't any other way in?" Hank asked.

"Not that I know of."

Hank cast one last look at Creed before walking away; the squeak of the gurney wheels echoed down the hall.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Malice was peering through the glass, the gelatinous nutrient gel nearly concealing the figure held within the tank. Another one of Sinister's clones was waking up. She watched as a hand rose to press its fingers against the glass. The mind inside the tank was confused and fearful. Malice licked her lips in anticipation. The fingers squeaked against the glass as the tank began to empty and refill with cleansing water. In the reflective surface of the tank, Malice spotted movement in the corner of her eye. She quickly turned, but it was too late. She was forced back against the tank, her spine arching along the curvature of the glass lid. She felt a sharp pain in her leg, and she found herself suddenly released.

She fell to the floor and readied to fight her attacker. He stood calmly a few feet away, his expression inscrutable. Malice realized with a jolt that it was Death who'd shoved her against the tank.

"Hey, what's the big---," she fell silent when she saw the empty hypodermic syringe he held in his hand. Malice glanced down at her leg. A small trickle of blood ran from a pinprick on her thigh.

"What did you do to me!?" Malice screeched. "What was in that?"

Behind her, the glass tank whispered open. Malice turned slightly, the world around her seemed to slow and blur around the edges. Death leapt at her and sent her flying into the tank with a splash. His hand was on the back of her head, forcing her face underwater. In her struggle to free herself, she grappled with the clone beneath her. The world was growing dark. In a panic, the psychic being known as Malice fled Lady Mastermind's body, jumping into the living, breathing clone so close by. As she entered the clone, Malice sucked in the clean air from the respirator, felt her head clear of whatever drug had been in that syringe.

Lady Mastermind's body was yanked from the tank; the lid suddenly slid shut. Malice threw her hands up against the glass, pounded the lid with her fists. There was a shower of sparks nearby which spattered against the glass tank. Suddenly, the air to her respirator cut off. Malice screamed and pounded on the glass with her hands and feet. She was running out of air! She needed a new host! But there was no one to touch, no one to jump onto. She sucked in a few last breaths...

* * *

Gambit was dimly aware of the clone's thrashing form in the tank behind him. Eventually, the movements slowed and then came to a stop. He was far more concerned with the unconscious woman lying still on the floor. Pinching her nose, he pressed his mouth to hers and blew two long slow breaths. Lady M gasped and coughed. Gambit turned her on her side as she coughed up water.

"Are you all right?" he asked her. "Can you breathe okay?"

Lady M coughed and nodded her head as she sucked in gasps of air.

"What did you do?" she asked between coughs. "How'd you get her out of me?"

"I tricked her into thinkin' she was drugged," Gambit replied. "She bailed when she thought she, or rather, you, was dyin'."

"Well, your little trick nearly did kill me, thank you very much!"

"Hey, keep your voice down," Gambit said. "If we get caught, it's game over."

Regan sobered. "What're we going to do?"

"I need you to make sure no one knows what's hit 'em. Until it's too late."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

During the course of the flight from New York to Ohio, Rogue pondered her recent altercation with Sabretooth. It was strange how suddenly she had gone from homicidal rage to baffled confusion. It was if someone had pulled the plug on her anger, and it had instantly drained away the moment the object of her ire had left the room. She realized that part of her anger to Sabretooth's taunts was her own, but the single-minded determination to kill had been entirely Death's contribution. Death didn't experience emotion the same way anyone sane or rational would. For one, he had no understanding of the signals his brain was sending him. He seemed to be able to turn the emotional stimuli on and off at will. Rogue had misinterpreted his feelings of fear. It wasn't fear he felt, but an overwhelming sensation of being powerless. As the personification of Death, he was not truly a person, but an inexorable function of life. He was not capable of free-will, but a slave.

'_A slave to Fate, __chance, kings, and desperate men;' _1these were inevitably the factors deciding who lived and who died. Death was merely acting out his part.

Iceman pulled Rogue from her rumination. "Join the X-Men, see the world," he said. "London... Paris..._Cleveland_."

"Bobby, shut up all ready," Rogue pushed herself up from the padded chair. She walked to the front of the observation deck where the other X-Men gathered. The Conquistador was holding over the city of Cleveland. The city lights danced on the black water of the Cuyahoga River.

"I suppose it's not as bad as I thought," Iceman said. "As long as it stays dark."

"Shall we disembark?" Storm asked. Rogue was momentarily taken aback, startled that Storm had deferred to her as team leader. But Storm had left the team for personal reasons, and she was acting out of respect for Rogue's position.

Rogue nodded, and led the small group comprising herself, Storm, Iceman and Wolverine, to the port-side of the immense ship. Cannonball would remain behind to pilot, keeping tabs on the team via a global positioning system. Sinister's lab was a seemingly endless series of tesseract portals connecting one locale to another. There was no telling where they might end up. The door to the Conquistador opened with a clang and whirring of mechanical parts. Iceman generated an ice-slide to take them down to the docks below.

They found themselves on a former loading dock turned concert arena, which was currently deserted save for a few bits of stray rubbish. A barge drifted slowly past; it sounded a whistle like low moan. Beyond the arena stands was a former factory that had been renovated into a nightspot, with retail stores, a club and micro-brewery. The quartet headed across the darkened parking lot, avoiding the nighttime revelers. From Rogue's pilfered memories, she recalled the access-way to Sinister's lab was in an adjacent building, which had not been renovated. The entryway would probably not be here much longer, as the improvements to the city progressed. The former steel factory would likely be demolished.

Rogue stared at the building for several long moments while searching Death's memories. "This way, I think."

She came to a heavily padlocked door. Wolverine raised his claws, but Storm put a hand on his arm. "Logan, if you don't mind?" She held a lock pick between her forefinger and thumb. "I could use the practice."

Apparently, the weather goddess recalled breaking and entering as easily as riding the proverbial bicycle: as something one never forgets. She made quick work of the silent security alarms and the multiple locks on the door. The X-Men entered the empty factory. The night sky shown blue through the high clerestory windows. They walked across the work floor to where the managerial offices had once been, trailing footsteps behind them in the dust. The building had likely gone unused for the last fifty years.

"This is it," Rogue said, putting her hand to the rather mundane looking office door. She gave the door a push, but it didn't move. "Another lock." Rogue said, and gestured for Storm.

Storm examined the door, fiddled with the lock and turned the doorknob. The door did not pull in or out. "That's strange," Storm said, giving the doorknob a final rattle.

"Well, now it's time for my kind of entering, heavy on the breaking," said Wolverine.

"No, wait!" Rogue said, seizing the knob again. Instead of pushing or pulling, she slid the door to the side and into a pocket in the door jamb. Wolverine looked disappointed. The four X-Men stared down a long corridor. It was dimly lit; one of the lighting fixtures above sputtered and flickered off as they watched.

"Sinister forget to pay the power bill, or something?" Iceman asked.

"Well...this is for all the marbles," Rogue said with a steadying breath, and started off down the hall. The others followed suit. When they came to the end of the corridor, they found themselves staring into an expansive circular open area which extended several stories up and down. A railing ran along the perimeter of the open circle. Iceman walked to it and peered up and down, a long whistle escaping his lips. Several strange tanks hung suspended in the center of the open area. Some were empty, but the others held clones in varying stages of development. Live wires, jolting with electricity, hung from above and shot sparks. One of the forms in the tanks jerked spasmodically, but then lay eerily still.

"What the hell happened here?" growled Wolverine.

"It looks as though there has been an attack," said Storm.

"Hey, do y'all have any idea where you're at?" came a tinny voice from the GPS unit on Rogue's forearm. It was Cannonball from the Conquistador.

"Looks like some sort of clone processing plant," replied Rogue. "What does the GPS say?"

"Well, it looks t'me as though you're in Tibet!" exclaimed Cannonball through the speaker. "D'you want me to_ rendez-vous_ with you there?"

"No, just hold where you are for now, until we get a better understanding of what's going on here," Rogue said.

"Any idea of where to go next?" Iceman asked.

Rogue's nose scrunched up as she concentrated. "Well, I think if we're t'find these missing kids, we've got to get to a lower level."

"No problemo," said Iceman, as he formed a rather steep slide spiraling downward. "Ladies first!"

"Thank you, Robert, but Rogue and I will be providing our own transportation," Storm replied, and with a gust of air, lifted from the platform and soared below. Rogue flew after her. Iceman looked hopefully at Logan.

Wolverine grumbled: "I'd better not get freezer burn on my butt."

* * *

(1: See John Donne's poem, Holy Sonnets X)

* * *

"Well, there's another one," said Iceman dully. "Which one was that, can you tell?" 

Wolverine pulled a bone fragment from where it had embedded itself in the wall. "I'm guessing Riptide," he replied.

Riptide's corpse lay broken and burned along the center of the hallway. Rogue crouched beside the deceased Marauder, and rubbed a finger along the soot surrounding the body. She left a silvery smear behind in the soot. "This one's killed the same way," she said. "Blown to pieces."

"You'da thought someone would've come running, after hearing an explosion like that," said Wolverine. "But this one's gotta be several levels away from the last one we found. These people are scattered everywhere."

"This same tactic was employed against us," spoke Storm. "We were confused and scattered during the Marauder's attack."

The X-Men mulled this over before continuing down the hall. They were less cautious now that they had come across their third corpse and had yet to encounter any obstacle.

"So, the question is, who got here before us?" Iceman asked. "Who got the jump on 'em?"

The corridor ended in a large room, which contained a profusion of electronic components and monitoring equipment. The same damage they'd seen in the rest of the base continued throughout the room.

"Wait, I think I've been here before," Rogue said, bringing the group to a halt. "'Course now it's a little worse for wear."

"You were here? Or are you remembering something from Death's memories?" Storm asked.

"No, I'm almost positive. This is where we met up with---."

There was a shifting in the damaged equipment. The team froze in place, readying themselves for an unknown attack. An overturned chair strung with cables was kicked aside by a combat-booted foot. The power vampire known as Threnody pulled herself from the wreckage, her body riddled with mortal wounds. However, the woman who had mastered death pulled herself to her feet to stand swaying before the X-Men. Her body crackled with unreleased energy.

"Threnody!" Iceman exclaimed, as he moved toward the injured woman. "What are you doing here? What's happened?"

"Stay away!" Threnody shrieked. Her eyes were crazed.

"Easy, girl," Wolverine growled. "Just back down now."

Threnody laughed a mad, unhinged laugh. "Oh, I wouldn't kill you X-Men. I've absorbed enough death energy, I could bring this whole damned place down around your ears. Another death would be too much for me to handle."

"Thren, who did this?" Iceman asked.

Threnody staggered like a drunk. "It was Death. Or Gambit. No, definitely Gambit. That's why I can't sense him anymore. Where is he...?" Her voice had slipped into a whisper, but then she suddenly shrieked: "Where is he!? Where is he!? I need him!"

"Calm down!" Rogue said, extending her hand towards Threnody. "Just settle yourself. You need help. Just take it easy, and we'll get you outta here."

"Don't touch me!" Threnody stumbled away from Rogue, and fell. Frantic to escape, she began to crawl away from Rogue. "Don't touch me! Leave! Get out! You'll ruin everything!"

"Threnody, what are you talking about," Storm entreated. "Please, we need you to explain to us."

"It's all her fault!" Threnody shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Rogue. "All of it! Her fault!"

* * *

Beast polished the small, stamp-sized implant he'd recovered from Arclight's body with a soft rag. The chip had been right where Sabretooth had said it would be. Hank set the chip on his knee, and adjusted his eyeglasses for a closer look. Scratching his head with a single claw, Beast pondered the functioning of the device. Given the speed with which the Marauders were able to signal a tesseract portal, he hypothesized that the implant was likely to be triggered by an electrical synapse; activated reflexively by the brain. He wondered how he would be likely to simulate an activation without actually implanting the device within himself. Perhaps a brief electrical impulse from a diode? He rubbed his furry head, causing it to crackle with static electricity. The air was always so dry down here, he thought idly. His blue eyes brightened momentarily, and he began to vigorously rub his head with both hands. Then, he slowly extended a finger toward the chip. There was a small crackle of static and suddenly, resident genius Hank McCoy, vanished.

* * *

Sarah had been hearing the sounds of destruction echoing down the halls for the better half of the last hour. With increasing dread, she realized the sounds of explosions were growing nearer. There was one last bang, and Sarah saw a flash of pinkish light flash past the window of her cell. Then there came resounding clangs of cell doors being thrown open. Sarah shook both with adrenaline and the last vestiges of fever which had racked her body. Whatever recent indignity Sinister had inflicted on her had left her sick with what Sarah hoped was just a mild case of flu. Though, where Sinister was concerned, she doubted she would be so lucky. 

Sarah heard excited voices in the hallway. Children's voices. A woman shouted: "Shut it, you brats!" and the cacophony suddenly ceased.

What was going on out there? Sarah wondered. Her cell door creaked open, revealing the creature calling himself Death. His face and hair were splattered with blood, which had begun to dry in rust colored spots. His clothes were slightly singed, and his eyes emanated a weird glow of pinkish energy. Stranger still, he was holding a toddler in one arm. The child was dressed in a simple white shift, and Sarah could only distinguish her sex by the simple rag doll she held in her hands. The little girl was dark skinned, and her head was covered in a riot of curls.

The man walked over to Sarah's bed, and set the baby down on her feet. The little girl wavered, and then clung to Death's legs, begging to be picked back up. Instead, the man sat on the edge of Sarah's bed.

"What do you want?" Sarah snarled.

"I want you to lissen to me," the man said. "Sarah, some things were said and done t'you, things I regret. These things were done for the benefit of other ears and eyes. Loyalties had t'be proved. And I 'pologize for usin' you this way."

Sarah stared at the man. This was a bizarre turn of events. His voice, while still hoarse, now had a different cadence. "_You apologize_?" she hissed. "Do you think I'm going to forgive you!?" Her arms pulled against the restraints.

"I know what all you've been put through. More than anyone your age should have t'suffer. I know things have been done t'make you question who y'are. Believe me, I can sympathize. You and I both have learned t'live a dual life."

Sarah had nothing to say to this. The memories from her experiences with S.H.E.I.L.D.1 were fragmented; she'd had two personalities at the time.

"I know you pride yourself on survivin,'" he continued. But there's more t'life, to _your_ life, than just gettin' by."

His hand moved to the thick leather restraints binding her leg to the bed. "Some of us are destined for greater things. I seen it in you. You're more than a survivor, you're a leader...and maybe a savior." The buckles rattled as he pulled the straps around her left leg free. "You could choose a lesser path, the path to revenge, t'hate. _My_ path. Or you could choose something more." All the while he spoke, he continued to unfasten the belts around Sarah's ankles, thighs, biceps, her wrists. His eyes, still frightening, but different now, bore into hers. "They's people who need you now, t'take care of 'em. Like this one here," he nodded at the small girl at his feet. "Well...what'll it be? Do you wanna survive, or do you really want to _live_?"

Freed now, Sarah lunged forward. Her arms flung around Gambit's neck, and she dug her fingers into his shoulders.

"I knew it wasn't you, I knew it," she whispered into his hair and she held him close. "How dare you, how _dare _you lie to me like that!"

Gambit pulled himself free from Sarah's embrace. He shook his head, his expression miserable. "C'mon _mignonne_, it's time to get."

He stood and scooped up the child. Sarah stood on shaky legs and followed after him. In the hall, Sarah found several teenage children, just younger than Sarah herself. They were all dressed in hospital gowns. The nervous teens were crowded around a tall, blond woman who stood with her hands on her hips. "Can we go now?" she whined. The teens fearfully backed away as Gambit approached.

"Take Antienne," Gambit said, holding the toddler to the woman.

"No way, I don't do kids. Especially not sick, drooling kids," the woman tried to wave Gambit away.

"You won't get sick," Gambit told her. "I've all ready given you the vaccine imprinted with your own X-factor. So take this baby, Regan." He forced the little girl into Regan's arms. Regan looked at the baby, who promptly sneezed into her face.

"Oh, gah, bleah!" Regan said, wiping the spray from her cheek. The baby giggled.

Gambit turned back to Sarah. "Marrow, I need you to take this access way," he pointed down the hall. "Follow the yellow lights along the floor, they'll lead you to a sort-of door. When you get there, you'll enter these coordinates," he rattled off a string of numbers, "and go through the portal when it opens. Can you repeat those numbers?"

Marrow responded affirmatively.

Gambit nodded, and said: "You'll be standing right in front of a safe house when you arrive. Regan will use her powers to disguise it once you are inside. Stay there until help arrives."

"Where are you going?" Marrow asked. "Why aren't you coming with us?"

"I'm going to make sure you're found by the right people. And then I have to settle up wit' the runner.2" he said as he started off in the opposite direction. "Go now, y'have to hurry."

* * *

(1: Spiderman/Marrow one shot) 

(2: gambling lingo: the runner collects bets and makes payoffs.)

* * *

"What's my fault?" Rogue asked Threnody, though pieces of Death's memory were clicking into place in her head. She began to tremble slightly. 

"All of this!" Threnody gesticulated wildly. "Sinister used Death to bring me here. He wanted to use me again, to find dying mutants, since there weren't many of us left. But then, I found the infected ones..."

"Infected...?" Rogue asked, her blood going cold.

"And they all led back to you!" Threnody cried.

"No!" Rogue cried. "No, I'm cured! Strain 88 is gone, Sabretooth's healing factor saw to it!"

"Wrong! You're not cured, you're some sort of Typhoid Mary! Everyone you touch dies!"

"That's impossible," Rogue cried, desperate now. "I haven't touched anyone, I can't!"

"You touched Sabretooth to cure yourself, and he carried the virus to those sorry Morlocks when he tried to escape..." Threnody put her arms around herself, and swayed from side to side.

"And the Shaws, them too!? I haven't seen either of them in years!"

"The mutant thief, Pulse, I think he was called..."

Rogue slapped her gloved hands against her face, covering her eyes. "You're lying, you're lying!"

"I'm afraid not, Rogue," said a voice from a balcony above. The five mutants in the room looked up to see a figure. Nearby sparks caused reflections to dance across the metal components attached to his uniform.

"Scalphunter!" Wolverine cried, as everyone scrambled for cover. However, Scalphunter failed to take aim or fire.

"Threnody," he said, "you'd best get out of here while you can."

"No!" she cried. "I have to find him!"

"Leave Death be," Scalphunter replied. "He doesn't want you."

Threnody's face contorted with fury. "But I love him!"

"You poor, deluded---," Scalphunter raised his rifle.

"It's that brat he cares about! I can bring him back if I have her!" Threnody shrieked.

Before Scalphunter could fire, Iceman's arm flung out and the end of the sniper's rifle froze. It exploded in a blast of fire and flying metal.

Threnody whipped around and saw Wolverine advancing on her. She quickly pressed a series of buttons on the bracelet on her forearm. As Wolverine leapt, she vanished with a clap of air. Storm rose into the air, sending debris and electrical wires flying. Scalphunter threw up his arms. "Stop!" he called. "Stop! Truce!"

"I think it is a little late for that," Storm said, firing a lightning bolt at his feet. The balcony collapsed, sending Scalphunter sprawling on the floor below.

Scalphunter sent a spattering of bullets into the air. "Listen to me!" he cried. "If you continue to attack me, I'll have no choice but to retaliate!"

"We've all made our choices," Wolverine snarled, falling onto the Marauder and forcing his weapon away. Wolverine raised his clawed fist.

"You don't understand!" Scalphunter replied. "I've not made a choice of my own free will in years. I'm simply not programmed that way!"

"Logan, wait!" Rogue said, before Wolverine could silence the Marauder forever.

Wolverine stood and yanked the sniper to his feet. The other X-Men approached, threats flashing in their eyes.

"So get talkin,'" Rogue snapped. "Is what Threnody babbling about true?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Scalphunter replied.

"And Gambit is responsible for all this?" Storm gestured to the surrounding damage.

"He is," Scalphunter replied. "He sort of, came back to himself, after you touched him." He gestured to Rogue. "This is about as rational as he's been in awhile. He's destroyed all the labs, the equipment, the cloning processes and the clones."

"Save you," said Rogue coldly.

"Right. For the first time in a long time, I've got a bid for freedom."

"And where is Remy now?" Storm asked.

"He's gone after Sinister," Scalphunter replied.

"That's suicide," Rogue said. "We have to go after him."

"What about the kids?" Iceman asked.

"I can help you there," Scalphunter offered. "If you let me get my hands on that computer."

"Why would you do that?" asked Wolverine.

"I figure it would greatly increase my chances for survival."

"I guess he's got a point," Iceman relented.

* * *

Beast found himself standing on some sort of platform. The circular room was surrounded by a wall of glass which was cracked in several places. He stepped from the platform and pressed the glass door. It fell over with a crash, and Beast winced. 

A crunch of glass made him turn his head.

"Ah, Doctor McCoy," said Sinister. He was holding what appeared to be a computer motherboard. He let it fall from his hands and tumble onto the pile of shattered debris at his feet. "I'm afraid you've caught me at a bad moment."

Cautiously, Beast stepped into the room. "What's happened here?"

"Monsieur LeBeau took it upon himself to systematically destroy everything I've worked toward for the last one hundred and fifty years," though his words were light, his expression was murderous. "You wouldn't, by chance, know anything about this?"

Beast was absorbed with taking in the damage. "What? No! Our Cajun compatriot has been _incommunicado_ as of late. I imagine that you may have had some part in that?"

"I did. However, I'd taken steps to ensure any...differences in opinion...would have had rather unfortunate results for dear Remy."

"And yet he still betrayed you?"

"Troubling, isn't it?" Sinister said. "A small slight would have caused him a great deal of pain. A betrayal such as this," Sinister gestured to the wreckage, "would have turned his brain to a pudding."

"I imagine that doesn't leave much room for disagreements," Beast said coldly.

"What brings you here, Doctor McCoy? Is it Gambit you wish to discuss, or do you have some other purpose?"

Beast swallowed his anger. "There is the small matter of the mutant population's rapidly declining numbers. Which was only made worse by the Marauder's recent foray onto the Institute's grounds."

"An unfortunate, but necessary evil," Sinister said, his voice an emotionless void.

"How so?"

"Those mutants had contracted a virus which, as yet, remains incurable."

"So you'd thought to simply kill the infected," Beast stated.

"The virus was spreading at an uncontrollable rate. And all evidence of infection traced back to one source."

"A Patient Zero?"

Sinister nodded. "Your own Rogue. The virus she was infected with, Strain 88, passes from one victim to another with nothing more than a simple touch. Skin to skin contact."

Beast's expression was one of shock. "Strain 88 was created specifically for Rogue. And the healing factor borrowed from Creed would have eradicated the infection."

"I'm afraid not. The healing factor would not seek out the virus, as the infected cells replicate the owner's own X-factor gene. That is, until the victim comes in contact with another mutant. The proteins surrounding the infected cells activate through skin contact, seizing onto the next mutant's X-factor and replicating it. Creed's healing abilities would erase the foreign cells, but the virus remains in his system. In Rogue's body, the virus so closely replicates her own mutant abilities, it remained virtually undetectable."

Sinister had turned and walked through a connecting passageway. Beast chose to follow him, though Sinister had given no indication for him to do so.

"Then, in essence, Strain 88 turns its victims into...Rogues?" Beast asked.

Sinister nodded. "The virus is greedy. Once it latches onto a new X-factor, it makes an imprint on the infected mutant. However, if the infected mutant comes in contact with a second or third mutant, the X-factor doubles, triples. Inevitably, the immune system begins to attack itself, then shuts down, resulting in death."

"Rogue had seen evidence in Death's memories that you were working on a vaccine."

"Oh, so she came in contact with Death? It's no wonder he's been out of sorts as of late," Sinister mused. "No matter, the blood of Apocalypse afforded him with immunity to all diseases."

"Sinister! The vaccine?" Beast prompted.

The pair had arrived at a laboratory. Electronic equipment had been broken, beakers and vials shattered and crushed underfoot, tables overturned. Several animals freed from cages ran about. One of the white cats, one eye blue the other yellow, was eating one of the white lab rats. It darted off with its kill. Several fluids mixed on the floor, hissing and smoldering.

Sinister sighed. "Destroyed, apparently," he finally said. "If it was Gambit's intention to ruin me, he has succeeded."

"Is it possible to replicate the process you used to create the vaccine?" Beast asked.

"I derived the vaccine from the pathogens produced by the de-powered mutants," Sinister said. "They possess a neutralized X-factor---."

"I speculated as much," Beast interrupted excitedly.

Sinister gave him a quelling look that indicated he was not used to interruption.

"...and therefore produce a weakened strain of the Rogue Virus," Sinister continued. "I then re-introduced the infected mutants to their own pre-M-Day DNA, thankfully supplied by your own laboratory."

Beast scowled at the geneticist. "It never occurred to you to simply ask?"

"I thought you might be adverse to my methods of dealing with the spread of the virus."

"A simple quarantine would have managed it!" Beast shouted.

"Perhaps in the earliest stages, if the virus was recognizable. Or perhaps you should have just allowed Rogue to die? Despite the trouble it caused me," here Beast made a derisive noise, but Sinister ignored him and continued: "the virus had unforeseen benefits. We can, in effect, re-infect the former mutant population with an active X-factor."

"Do you expect people to just volunteer to be infected with a virus?" Beast asked, taken aback.

"I wasn't planning on seeking recruits. I intended to acquire those whose mutantcies would be viable for future generations."

"Do you have any ethical sense whatsoever?"

"We're talking about the success of the mutant race, Doctor McCoy," Sinister replied. "I'm willing to do what it takes, and you needn't sully your hands in the matter."

Beast eyed Sinister with icy outrage. "And where are the children now?" he asked finally.

Sinister beckoned him along, and the two left the ruined laboratory. A rat scampered down the hall ahead of them and through a broken door, which hung crookedly off its hinges. Beyond the door was a corridor lined with a series of open cell doors.

At the end of the hall was a body. Beast leapt past Sinister and turned the body over. It was not one of the kidnapped teenagers, but Vertigo. Sinister followed Beast at a more sedate pace, glancing into each cell as he passed. "Empty," he said, but as he passed the last cell, he was drawn up short by a blast of bright yellow energy. Sinister was knocked back against the adjacent wall, but the damage inflicted to him quickly repaired itself.

"Gone!" came a shriek from inside the cell. "She's gone!"

Beast braced himself for an attack as Threnody stumbled from the cell. She looked wildly around, though her eyes didn't seem to see Beast at all.

"Threnody," Sinister said, slowly approaching the crazed woman, "where have the children gone?"

Threnody shook her head. "I don't know! You took her away from me! Give her back!"

"You're suffering from severe withdrawal, Threnody. Even if I knew where your child was, I would not give Antienne to you, lest you make another attempt to take her life."

Threnody threw herself at Sinister with a despairing wail. She beat on his chest with ineffective fists. Sinister grasped her by the shoulders and shook her, causing her hair to fly around her face.

"Now, that's enough!" Beast cried. "Leave her be!"

Sinister ceased shaking Threnody and stared her in the face. "Concentrate, woman. You should be able to detect Death wherever he's gone. Through him we should be able to discern where the patients have gone."

Threnody moaned, and her head fell forward onto Sinister's chest. "Oh, he's gone, gone, gone. It's all your fault. I told you not to change him back. I told you..." Her eyes suddenly blinked open and she gasped. A sequence of numbers flashed on the bracelet she wore on her forearm. She looked at the bracelet. "Oh," she said softly. "I felt him just then..."

"Sinister, what---," Beast began, but Sinister seized Threnody's wrist, and depressed a button. A tesseract door sprung open, and dragging Threnody behind him, Sinister vanished before Beast could react.

Beast ran to where the door had popped out of existence and looked hopelessly around. There was nothing and no one. At a loss, he approached Vertigo's body. Having turned her over onto her back, he revealed something hidden beneath her body. Beast picked up a playing card, sticky with the dead clone's blood. Turning it over, he saw it was the King of Diamonds; 'the man with the ax,' as the card was nick-named. Written in the margin were the words: "Follow Suit."

"Jinkies," Beast said.

* * *

Scalphunter had arranged and repaired the broken computer components with superhuman speed and skill. Aided by the mechanical components secreted on his uniform, he was able to reassemble a working terminal within several minutes. He was seated on the floor with the X-Men gathered around him. 

"It's not perfect," he said. "Gambit erased the travel logs before destroying the computers. I'm beginning data recovery now."

"Travel logs?" Iceman asked. "Who's your travel agent, and what made him think that Cleveland was a hot destination spot?"

Scalphunter didn't bother to spare Iceman a glance. "Sinister keeps record of anyone who comes in or goes out of the tesseract portals," he pointed to the screen as a several lines of code appeared. "I'll see if I can pull up the records of the last few hours." His hands flew over the keyboard, which was missing a few letters. "This must be Sunfire," Scalphunter said. Though the code was occasionally broken up by anomalous glyphs, he still seemed to be able to understand the readout. "And judging from the registered body mass of this one, I'd say Random was able to pull himself back together and 'port out. Hm."

"What is it?" Rogue asked, peering at the screen and trying to make sense of it.

"It says five unregistered mutants arrived around the same time. But there are only four of you. did you lose someone along the way?"

"No," Rogue replied. "We left Cannonball behind on the Conquistador."

"Well, judging from the readout, this one's no lightweight."

"A mystery for another time then," Storm said. "Where are the children?"

Scalphunter scrolled to the end of the list. "The record shows nine, no ten, mutants left about twenty minutes ago. The portal isn't far from where the kids were being held."

"Ten?" Storm asked. "We have only accounted for eight kidnapped teenagers."

"Nine are kids," Scalphunter said, "guessing from their body weight alone. One adult, registered as Malice. Though that is not necessarily the case any longer."

"So, Lady M was possessed by Malice," Wolverine said. "But now she's not?"

"As far as I know, Malice is dead. Again," Scalphunter said.

"Does Sinister have access to these files?" Rogue asked.

"If there's a working computer somewhere in the facility, then yes," Scalphunter replied.

"Delete these files," Rogue commanded. "Then show us where the portal is."

* * *

Beast bounded down the hallway, but having failed to locate another clue, reversed course and started down another corridor. He was rewarded by finding another playing card, wedged into the crack between two wall panels. This one was a Four of Diamonds. He was getting closer. He added the card to the other nine he'd collected so far. The suit seemed to be laid out in descending order, like a game of Solitaire. He was being lead to...who knows what. Beast debated following the clues left behind by someone so clearly deranged, but with Sinister gone, he found he had little else to go on. 

Beast skidded to a halt when the sound of voices echoed down the hall. Hefting one of the broken wall panels, he readied to throw. The Marauder Scalphunter exited a nearby portal and quickly ducked as the panel soared over his head, nearly decapitating him. Scalphunter turned on Beast, readying a weapon when Wolverine jumped from the portal and caromed into Scalphunter's back. Both men fell to the floor. Beast vaulted after Wolverine, but the sight of Rogue drew him up short. He stumbled in his effort to avoid contact with her and crashed to the floor.

"Henry!" cried Storm, as she and Iceman filed out from the passageway. "Are you all right?"

"Storm!" exclaimed Beast, equally surprised. "What on earth---."

Wolverine continued to grapple with Scalphunter. They were apparently trying to throttle one another. "Wolverine, stop!" Rogue cried. "Stop fighting! You're only making him worse!"

Wolverine jumped back from Scalphunter, who seemed ready to continue the wrestling match. It took the Marauder several moments before he was able to compose himself.

"Get a grip, man," Iceman said, and pulled Scalphunter to his feet.

"What's this? Colluding with the enemy?" Beast said, while swallowing his own guilt. He'd come to see Sinister, after all.

"Greycrow says he knows where the kids have gone to," Rogue said.

"The portal is not too far," Scalphunter added, pushing back his ruffled hair.

"For your sake, you'd better be right," Wolverine snarled at Scalphunter.

"I believe Scalphunter may be telling the truth," said Beast, showing the others the playing cards he'd found. "I've been following Gambit's trail for the last quarter hour."

Scalphunter bent and picked up another card: the Three of Diamonds.

"Any idea what's at the end of this trail?" asked Wolverine.

"Let us hope we find the children, alive safe and well," said Storm.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

A rectangle of light appeared in the alleyway, causing several rats to startle from their hiding places. Rogue, followed closely by Storm, Wolverine, Beast and Iceman, dropped from the opening to the trash-strewn pavement.

Rogue turned to look back at the portal. "You comin'?" she asked.

Scalphunter replied: "I'm going to destroy this portal and any data of where you've gone. I can 'port out on my own power."

"Thanks," Rogue said begrudgingly.

Scalphunter offered her a mock salute before the doorway vanished, leaving the X-Men standing in darkness.

"How do we know we're in the right place?" Iceman asked.

"Look there!" Beast said excitedly, and stabbed a finger toward the dilapidated building across the street. The sign out front read: Saint Jude's Children's Hospital. The words were flanked by matching halberds, the ax that the saint was often portrayed holding.

Out in the street, Rogue sucked in a deep breath and looked around. Raising the receiver on her wrist to her mouth she said: "Cannonball?"

"Here, Rogue," Cannonball responded.

"Head south. Meet with us in New Orleans. And put the pedal to the metal."

When they entered the hospital, the were shocked to find that the interior of the building was in good repair. The building smelled of fresh paint and the floors had been re-tiled.

"That's weird," said Iceman, looking over the new furnishings, which were still covered with protective plastic. "This has all been fixed. Why's the outside in such bad shape?"

"Perhaps that was Lady Mastermind's doing," Storm said. "An illusion. They must be nearby."

Suddenly, a silver object went spiraling through the air. It dinged off the back of Wolverine's head and fell the the floor with a rolling clatter. It was a bedpan.

"It took you losers long enough," called a voice from down one of the shadowed halls. Marrow walked out into the hospital vestibule, her bare feet silent on the tiles.

"Sarah!" Storm exclaimed. "Thank the Goddess, you are alive!"

"Nice duds, kid," said Wolverine, rubbing the back of his head and looking over Sarah's outfit. She was wearing Sponge Bob Squarepants nurse's scrubs.

"It was the best I could find," Marrow groused. "The other option was Elmo."

"Where are the others?" Rogue asked.

"Down here," Marrow gestured, and led the way back down the hall.

They found the children, along with Lady Mastermind, in a communal room not far from the main entry. Two of the girls were playing with a toddler, who was sitting on a bed surrounded by pillows. They dawdled a rag doll in front of the girl, who was clapping her hands, happy for the attention. Some of the others were playing a card game in the center of the floor. They had a spirited game going, though it looked more as if they were throwing cards at one another than really playing an organized game. Lady Mastermind was laying face-down on another bed, spread-eagle and moaning to herself. One of the teenagers kept poking Lady M, and was asking: "Can we go home now? How 'bout now? When can we go home?"

The group fell silent when the X-Men entered. Lady M turned over and sneered at them. "Frickin' finally! Get me outta here, these kids are driving me nuts!"

"The Conquistador is on its way," Rogue said, and pointed at the baby. "Where'd she come from?"

Storm walked over to the toddler and scooped her up. The baby jiggled her doll, which made a rattling noise.

"Well," Lady M began, "when a man and a woman love each other very much, or get together for a one-night stand, the man puts his---."

"Regan!" Rogue snapped. "I _know_ where babies come from! I meant, who's is she?"

Some of the teenagers sniggered.

"Well, I dunno," Regan said. "Gambit foisted her off on me."

"Where is Remy now?" Storm asked.

"I dunno," Lady M shrugged.

"Well, you're a regular well-spring of information," Rogue griped.

Before Lady M could retort, the window behind her smashed inward by a sudden bolt of energy. Several kids cried out and dove for cover. Lady M was bowled over, and left unconscious on the floor. Threnody swung in through the smashed window and landed on her feet.

"Give her to me!" she screamed at Storm, who still held the baby.

Threnody aimed a bolt at Storm, but the blast went wide as Wolverine caught Threnody around the middle and tossed her to the ground. Storm was forced to duck behind the bed as the blast shredded through the newly plastered drywall. Ceiling tiles tumbled down from above. The little girl's doll slid along the floor, scattering little vials of amber liquid across the tiles.

Beast dove, scooping up a handful of vials. Rising hope blinded him to the continuing fight behind him. "The vaccine!?" his mind reeled.

Wolverine was blasted aside by one of Threnody's power bolts. He smashed into an opposite wall. Threnody scrambled to her feet, heading toward where Storm was hiding. Her feet flew out from underneath her when the floor suddenly turned to ice. She skidded and crashed into a cart. Trays and bedpans scattered everywhere. The teenagers rushed the door, tripping over strewn debris and slipping on ice.

It was close quarters, and Rogue was reluctant to wield her firepower with so many panicked children around. Instead, she dove for Threnody, who shrieked in fear. One of Threnody's boots caught Rogue in the jaw, and she was knocked back. Threnody stood, but was blasted by a rush of freezing air which plastered her to the wall. This attack lasted only moments, as Threnody's powers shattered the ice, sending chunks of it flying in all directions. She moved to leap over the bed at Storm, who held the crying toddler close, a protective hand over the girl's head.

There was a sharp crack of breaking bone, and suddenly a blade whirled through the air, striking Threnody in the gut. The woman gasped, and clutched at the bone blade sticking out of her stomach. She collapsed onto the bed. Marrow seized the woman by her hair and held a second blade to Threnody's throat.

"Sarah, stop!" Beast cried.

Marrow paused, her knee pressed in the small of Threnody's back, her hand poised with the blade. A slow trickle of blood ran down Marrow's shoulder, running from the wound where she had pulled a newly developed bone spur. Shocked, Beast realized Marrow's powers had returned. Sinister had been right. There was none of the gleeful look of murder in Marrow's eyes; she was not as she had been when the X-Men first took her in. Instead, there was a calm look of resolve in her expression. Slowly, Marrow released Threnody, who lay gasping and bleeding on the bed.

Beast approached Threnody, who lay still as he set his huge hairy hand against her cheek. The woman looked dreadful, her eyes defeated. "Did you find Death?" he asked her. Threnody gasped and a trickle of blood flowed from the corner of her mouth.

"I can't die," she whispered.

"I meant, did you discover Gambit's whereabouts?"

With effort, Threnody pulled her arm out from beneath her body. The coordinates were still set in place from her last 'port. "He's here," she said. "But you'll be too late. Sinister is going to finish him."

"We'd better get going, then," Rogue said. "Hank, stay here with Threnody and Lady Mastermind. Storm, Iceman, Wolverine, Marrow...?"

Marrow shook her head. "No, I stay with them," she indicated the other teenagers. "They're my responsibility."

"Good luck," Beast said, pulling Threnody onto the bed, and holding a hand over the wound in her stomach. He began barking orders at several of the milling kids. "Get Regan off the floor and onto a bed! You! Jessie, right? Bring towels, gauze!"

Rogue turned from the sudden turmoil and left, leading the remnants of her team into the night.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Gambit keyed in a sequence of numbers into the bracelet on his forearm. He pressed a button to set the destination, but did not activate it. He was crouched against a cement barrier somewhere in the Lower Ninth Ward of New Orleans, or Cut Throat City as the locals had dubbed it. This part of the city was eerily empty, having sustained the brunt of damage inflicted by both Hurricane Katrina and Hurricane Rita. The city streets were cracked, the houses uprooted and ruined vehicles strewn about like so many forgotten toys. Dusty lawns remained vacant and bare, the soil filled with toxins so that nothing grew.

Gambit had generally avoided the CTC; it was not part of the LeBeau Clan's turf. The few occasions he'd ventured into the area were with the Harvest Master when it came time to disseminate Guild wealth. Some of the other clans, lower on Thieves' Guild pecking order and living in the Lower Ninth, had harbored nothing but resentment for the LeBeaus. Gambit just preferred to avoid conflict all together, and stayed out the the area. Out of sight, out of mind. Which, apparently was the local and federal governments' opinion on the matter as well. Little, if anything, had been rebuilt in this area.

He wondered if he'd left enough behind for the X-Men to find Sarah and the other children. It was Death's idea to kiss Rogue, leaving behind memories of where to locate the closest access portal. It took all of Death's self-control to overcome his revulsion at physical contact and kiss her. The effort not to kill her had knocked him flat. Gambit had left enough dead Marauders in his wake; surely Henry would make the effort to investigate. The cards left behind would pique his innate curiosity. Gambit's last ditch effort to ensure the children were safe would maybe mean leaving behind his own body in some sort of Da Vinci Code-esque manner. "'So dark the con of man,'" thought Gambit ruefully. Then: "What a stupid book. It would have to be if Bobby recommended it."

"What are you blathering about?" Death asked.

"Nevermind, popular culture reference," Gambit replied silently.

"Is this anything like that Buffy you've been telling me about?"

"No, ones a book, ones television."

Death was silent for several long moments. Gambit swatted at a mosquito; even as the hungry insects approached, they were zapped by the unstable charged particles surrounding him. "Great, former superhero turned human bug-zapper."

"It's quiet," Death said ominously. "Too quiet..."

"Y'don't say things like that," Gambit scolded.

"Why not?"

"B'cause, whenever anyone says that, something bad happens. It's a cliche."

"What's a cliche?"

"It betrays a lack of original thought, is what it is."

"Can I even have original thoughts?" Death asked.

"Why don't you shut up and give it a try," Gambit replied. Then: "Good God, does this guy ever shut up? And how far gone am I to be sitting here in the dark having an argument with my alter ego?"

Something scurried out of one of nearby hovels. Rats bounced through the scrub to another shelter.

"Time t'make the donuts," Gambit thought.

"Is that a cliche?"

"No, it's a catch phrase. Get with the program, will ya?"

Gambit leapt over the cover of the cement barrier and streaked across the open street. Such an obvious move screamed: "Come and get me!"

He had not reached the cover of the broken remains of a nearby house when Sinister appeared, flashing into existence with a burst of light. Gambit skidded to a halt and jumped back as a blast of energy left a smoking crater at his feet. He landed in a crouch, waiting for Sinister's next move.

"The whereabouts of the patients, if you will, LeBeau," Sinister said.

"Dead," Gambit replied. "I kil't them."

In the darkness, Gambit saw Sinister's face twist into a furious mask. "You lie."

"Yes, and often. But not this time," Gambit gave him his most deranged grin. Boy, he was really chewing up the scenery here. "You must've witnessed my little exchange with darling Sarah," he continued. "When I smashed her hopes for any rescue. That was right before you forbid me from seeing the patients, remember?"

"That's...impossible!" Sinister hissed. "You cannot betray me!"

"Can't I? Well, maybe Death can't but Gambit don't have any such compulsions...Boy, I hate talking in third person. It's so damn confusing!"

"Do you have any idea of what you've done?" Sinister cried. "You've just ensured the destruction of the mutant race!"

Gambit shrugged, "_Tant pis_," he said. "The world is better off, in my opinion."

Sinister gave a cry of rage and fired a bolt of energy in Gambit's direction. Gambit threw up his arms, making no effort to avoid the blast. The bolt seemed to divide in two and flow around Gambit's body. The blast smashed into the building behind sending a flare of power up into the air.

"Whew," Gambit said, and uncinched the cloak from around his neck. It crumpled to a heap around his feet. "Gettin' hot in here. Thanks, by the way, for restoring my former powers. I knew y'couldn't leave well enough alone."

Gambit sent a barrage of playing cards flying in Sinister's direction. Several cards detonated, sending Sinister's form roiling as he reformed his body around the damage. Sinister's arm flew out, extending bonelessly in one long flow, and bore down on Gambit's chest. The blow sent Gambit to the ground with enough force to crack the pavement. Sinister's body moved like an avalanche or a tidal wave, crashing toward Gambit in a sinuous flow and smothering him. He found his head enveloped in the flow of living flesh. His hands moved through the thick mass that was Sinister's body.

Suddenly, Gambit's mind jerked back, as if pulled by a mental tow line. Death's mind surged forward, his powers seeking out every oxygen-carrying cell in Sinister's body and turning it to putrid toxic sludge. He heard a muffled scream, and suddenly, Sinister was pulling away from Death, tendrils of human tissue undulating in the air. Pieces of flesh sloughed from Sinister's form to fall sizzling on the street in stinking piles.

Death felt an intense pain in his head. He screamed and jerked backwards, clutching his skull in agony. It felt as if something had detonated within his head. Blackness swirled across his right eye.

Gambit righted himself, the pain was still intense, but with Death's mind suppressed, he no longer felt the compulsion not to defy Sinister. Gambit's vision suddenly swam in flowing energy, and at the center of it was the black pulsating form of Sinister, looking like a hole in space. Concentrating his efforts, he focused on Sinister's body. Pinpricks of light began to dot Sinister's form. The pinpricks coalesced, then fell together in a shimmering cascade of explosively charged kinetic energy. Sweat rolled down Gambit's face in an effort to hold the charge, to not let it detonate.

Gambit depressed the button on his bracelet, activating the tesseract portal nearby. He held forth a final playing card, the King of Hearts; 'suicide king,' a personal favorite.

"You look like the right man t'do the job," he whispered to the impassive face.

* * *

Rogue was gripping Wolverine by the wrists as she soared toward the bright golden glow up ahead. Storm and Iceman were not far behind, the roar of their passing caused debris to fly up and dance down the empty streets.

When they neared the battle site, it was to see Sinister glowing like a star about to go super-nova, and Gambit staggering forward, a glowing card held in his grip.

"Iceman!" Rogue cried, and released one of Wolverine's arms. She made a wide sweeping gesture. "Surround the area! Protect the levy!"

Iceman nodded and sped away, propelled by the constant creation of ice beneath his feet. They felt the spray of chilled water fleck them as he passed. "Storm! We need wind!" Rogue pointed upwards. "Goin' straight up!"

Storm raised her arms skyward and roiling clouds formed in the sky above, crashing together with a crack of lightning and thunder.

"Logan, I need y'to protect Remy," she said. Wolverine looked up at her and gave her a thumbs up with his free hand.

"No problem, darlin'."

Rogue dropped Wolverine above the two embattled figures. As she soared past, she saw Gambit release a charged card, while simultaneously, Sinister sent a silver spear-like object flying in Gambit's direction. Sinister was knocked back into a portal in space just as Gambit was speared in the chest by the flying scythe. Wolverine hit the pavement just as Gambit's body dropped lifelessly to the street. Rogue's cry of dismay was lost in the deafening roar erupting from the open tesseract doorway. Wolverine threw his body over Gambit's just as the whorl of the ensuing explosion rolled over them. Rogue was sent spiraling through the air with the concussive force of the blast. A columnar cloud descended from the sky above, sucking the majority of the blast upwards into the atmosphere. The outward moving energy was caught by the curving walls of ice, protecting the nearby city from any further destruction.

Rogue corrected her flight, and roared back to where she had released Wolverine. She failed to catch herself in time, and crashed to the pavement and rolled several feet. Ignoring her pain, she scrambled to her feet and ran toward where Wolverine and Gambit lay.

Wolverine was just pushing himself up from where he'd been covering Gambit's body from the brunt of the blast. His healing factor was working double time to repair the injuries caused by the explosion. His uniform smoked in places, revealing singed flesh.

"Remy!" Rogue cried, falling to her knees beside Gambit's body. The lower half of his face was burned, giving the impression that he'd been split diagonally in two; one half red burned flesh, the other black.

She was filled with relief when his eyes flickered open. He stared sightlessly upward as charged particles began to drift down from the clouds above. The lights reflected in the black surface of his eyes.

"_Les etoiles_..." he murmured.

"Remy, stay with us, help is on the way," Rogue said, pulling the broken half of Death's scythe from Gambit's chest.

"What're you doin', girl," Wolverine asked, his voice rough. "That might've been all that was holding his insides in!"

"No, Logan. If Gambit's powers are as strong as I think they are, he should be able to close up his own wounds." She looked down at the gaping hole in his chest, which continued to seep his life's blood onto the pavement. "Oh no...!" Rogue moaned, and pressed her hands into the wound. "Remy, please, don't do this t'me again!"

A dark shadow passed over them as the hull of the Conquistador cleaved through the clouds. "See," she said. "Help is here. Just try t'hold it together until we can get you to a stasis chamber!"

Tears rolled down Rogue's cheeks, leaving white trails on her soot-covered face. She received a long, drawn out sigh as a response.

"_C'est fini_, Anna," Remy whispered. "_Je suis libre._"

"I'm free."

* * *

(_tant pis_: (French) Oh well, too bad!)

( Les etoiles: (French) the stars.)


	17. Epilogue

Epilogue

Doctor Hank McCoy carefully swabbed the area with cleanser before applying the syringe to Logan's arm.

"That really necessary, Doc?" Logan asked as Hank stuck him with the needle. "That's like disinfecting the condemned before givin' them the lethal injection."

"Allow me my thoroughness, Logan," replied Hank, his voice coldly professional.

"Can I expect any side effects from this concoction of yours?"

Hank pondered. "With your healing abilities, I can't say for certain. There are particular poisons in the antiviral drug that will destroy the proteins binding the virus together. You may experience some flu-like symptoms, perhaps a rash."

"So now that I've got this cure," Logan began hopefully, "does that mean I can leave?"

"I'd prefer if you remained in quarantine for another few days," Hank replied. "For observation." If Hank didn't know Logan better, he'd think the man looked downright crestfallen. Hank supposed it wouldn't be all that surprising if Logan was unhappy. He had spent the better part of two weeks with roommates who were less than companionable.

"When do I get this miracle cure?" asked one of Logan's roommates. Raven was lying in an adjacent bed. She was still being given oxygen while her body recovered from the poisons she had inhaled.

"You'll be spending the next few days healing, before I give you the antivirals," Hank told her. In fact, Mystique's exposure to Strain 88, or what Sinister had called the Rogue Virus, had caused her to imprint on Pulse's abilities. Hank had to expose Raven to her own DNA in order for her to "catch" her mutant abilities, as one would catch a virus. Thankfully, once her regenerative powers were restored, she healed at a superhuman rate.

Rogue was the third patient in quarantine. She had remained uncharacteristically silent these last days, despite Raven's attempts to cajole her into conversation, or at least an argument. Hank prepared another syringe. Sinister's research had provided them with a vaccine, but no cure. Hank had been running test upon test, day and night, until he found a solution that would negate the virus without doing untoward harm to the patient. Despite meeting with success, he was still hesitant to give Rogue the cure.

Rogue silently pushed up the sleeve to her hospital gown and proffered her arm as Hank approached. "Rogue," he began, as he took her hand in one of his large blue ones. "There's something I have to tell you before I inject you."

"Yeah, Hank?" she asked, her voice a little rough. When he didn't respond right away, she quipped: "Well, spit it out all ready."

"The cure might have some side-effects..." he began.

"Yeah, I heard. Flu, rash. Big deal."

"Those are the expected side-effects. In your case, there might be something...well, unexpected."

Rogue leveled him with a cool green stare. Hank looked away as he applied alcohol to a fresh swab. He then rubbed the swab on the inside of Rogue's arm.

"The virus acts just as your own powers do. The drug may not be able to differentiate between infected cells and your own mutant physiology," Hank said at last.

"Am I gonna die from this?" Rogue asked. "Is this cure gonna kill me?"

"No, no..." Hank said hurriedly. "It simply destroys the infected cells ability to latch on to another mutant's powers." It was a moment before he continued: "The antiviral may very well nullify your mutant abilities."

Rogue said nothing. Hank held the syringe, undecided.

"Why are you tellin' me this, Hank?" Rogue finally asked. "Do you think I'm gonna just tell you: 'No, I don't want the cure.' If I was untouchable before, what does this virus make me? You think I wanna be some kind of leper?"

"I thought you should be aware, is all. And for the safety of everyone, I'm afraid there can be no choice in whether you accept the cure or not."

In silence, he injected her with the contents of the syringe.

* * *

The door to the MedLab swished open, but Ororo hesitated in the threshold. She hadn't expected to see Emma Frost here. As it was, Emma was standing at the foot of the bed with an inscrutable expression on her face.

"Hey!"

Ororo started at the voice behind her. She turned to see Regan, hand on hip and impatience in her face. Ororo stepped aside and Regan swept past. Now curious, Ororo followed after the woman. Emma had turned to face the visitors.

"How is he?" Ororo directed her question to Emma.

"The same," Emma replied. "The tests show he's in a minimally conscious state."

"Some would say to just pull the plug," Regan said caustically. "That's what they did to that one woman from Florida---."

Ororo favored the woman with a cold stare.

"Hey, I'm not saying I agree!"

"He's minimally conscious, not vegetative," Emma said to Regan. "Nor brain dead. Though he's lucky to be alive at all. He's been remarkably successful at healing himself, now that his former powers have been restored at full strength."

The person in question lay on the bed before them. He had nothing to add save a muttered: "..._mais papa_..."

Ororo approached the bed to look down at her friend's face. "He spoke!" she said, her voice hushed but excited.

"Yes, he'll do that," Emma said. "But it's not a conscious process on his part. He responds to some external stimulation, but it's purely reflexive."

"Mostly he just mumbles jibberish," Regan said.

"Why are you even here?" Ororo snapped, without looking away from the patient.

"Regan has volunteered to help me," Emma said. "As Gambit is somewhat conscious, it should be safe to investigate his mind and see what, if anything, is left to piece together."

"And why would you offer your help?" Ororo asked, turning to Regan.

Regan shrugged. "Hey, he helped me, I helped him. Right now, we're even...I'd rather he owe me one. Besides, I've been through enough therapy myself to know how this works."

"That is no credential," Ororo replied.

"Regan's abilities will allow us to smooth over the rough spots," Emma said. "Her illusions can be used as much for healing as they can for harm."

"If you insist on her involvement, Emma," Ororo said, "I relent. I defer to your judgment, as there are no other telepaths as talented...or available."

"A rather backhanded compliment, Ororo," Emma replied. "I assure you, I'm up to the task and I'll do everything in my power to restore Gambit's mind. Whether he deserves it or not."

"We X-Men have agreed," Storm said, her voice steely. "There is no stipulation attached to our helping Remy. There is nothing deserved or undeserved. We are not here to mete out punishment."

"Ah, it's so nice to have our moral backbone restored," Emma said sarcastically. "A ruler to measure ourselves to."

Ororo turned away from Emma. She lay a hand upon Gambit's forehead. "Your rancor is noted," Ororo said to Emma. "And I apologize for any insult. It is only that I cannot bear to lose another friend. I trust you to help him."

"There's no reason why I shouldn't help him," Emma said, as she turned away from Storm, hiding an expression which might have been akin to guilt. "We're all X-Men here. We make sacrifices and we accept one another despite past mistakes. He'll understand that."

Emma was speaking to Ororo, who was only half-listening. Perhaps if Ororo had been giving Emma her full attention, she would have noticed...it sounded more as if Emma were trying to reassure herself.


End file.
